Se?G 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





^^^ 



JOHN KEESE, 



WIT AND LITTERATEUR 



A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR. 



WILLIAM L. KEESE. 




Op- w 



^^- --^ 



NEW YORK : ' ^l 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

I, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
1883. 






<'^^ 



COPYRIGHT BY 

WILLIAM L. KEESE. 



THIS MEMOIR 

IS 

LOVINGLY INSCRIBED 

TO 

iM Y MOTHER. 



PREFACE. 



More than a quarter of a century has passed since 
the death of the subject of the following pages ; and 
few, if any, of tiiose who were his intimates in other 
days are now living. Yet lively traditions of him re- 
main among the book-selling fraternity, and it has 
been a matter of regret with many that his name 
does not appear in any American biographical dic- 
tionary. 

In August, 1877, the late Evert A. Duyckinck con- 
tributed to the " Magazine of American History " an 
appreciative and entertaining paper entitled " Keese 
ana" — being his recollections of my father — in which 
he feelingly said that " Keese should not pass out of 
memory with the recollections of his many friends of 
the present fleeting generation." This paper was sup- 
plemented in the same year by a brief sketch by the 
present writer, in the same periodical; and in 1880 
the late Henry Morford wrote and published, in the 



6 PREFACE. 

magazine bearing his name, a sketch of greater length 
entitled "John Keese ; his Intimates," etc. These vari- 
ous writings were, naturally, all more or less of a frag- 
mentary character, and did not pretend to an extended 
treatment of their subject. 

The present composition is prepared with material 
gathered from many sources, and is designed to form 
a suitable biographical memoir. Surely a man whose 
life's aim was the diffusion of knowledge ; whose name 
was identified with many important literary undertak- 
ings ; and whose fame as an auctioneer was beyond 
doubt unique — deserves a record more enduring than 

memory. 

W. L. K. 

April, 1883. 



MEMOIR. 



John Keese, the subject of the present memoir, 
was born in the city of New York, November 24, 
1805, and was the second son of William Keese and 
Rebecca Linn. His father was a lawyer of reputation, 
and his license of admission to the bar (now lying 
before me) bears the signature of James Kent. His 
mother was a daughter of the Rev. William Linn, 
D. D., a native of Pennsylvania, one of the most elo- 
quent divines of his time, first Chaplain of the House 
of Representatives of the United States, under the 
Constitution of 1787, and celebrated as a pulpit orator 
in New York during the last decade of the last century. 

Mr. Keese had reason to be proud of his grand- 
fathers. John Keese, the father of William Keese, was 
also by profession a lawyer ; became assistant deputy 
quartermaster-general on Washington's staff, and was 
one of the original members of the Society of the 
Cincinnati. The Rev. William Linn enjoyed the high 
honor of being chosen to deliver before the Society of 
the Cincinnati the oration on the death of General 
Washington, the effort, as it is recorded, " placing him 



8 MEMOIR OF 

notably beyond his pulpit compeers of that day." I 
view it in the light of a striking coincidence that one 
grandfather should have been a listener to an oration 
pronounced by the other before the renowned society 
on so solemn and impressive an occasion ; and I am 
sure that the grandson ever proudly cherished such 
honored ancestral memories. 

The bright intelligence of Mr. Keese was early 
apparent, and it was decided in family council to edu- 
cate him for the ministry. At his father's death, how- 
ever, it seemed expedient, if not, indeed, necessary, 
that he should enter on a mercantile career; and, on 
being asked his preference in that regard, declared it 
earnestly for the book business, thus revealing that 
predilection for letters which led him into the walks 
of literature ; incited him to persistent self-culture ; 
gained him the acquaintance and friendship of men of 
genius ; and proved in the end a consolation for the 
loss of collegiate honors. 

It may be proper to mention here that a later 
family conclave decreed that the eldest brother should 
espouse the Church, and accordingly William Linn 
Keese became a clergyman of the Episcopal faith, 
a devoted follower of Christ, an eloquent divine, loved 
and honored as a man and pastor in the communities 
where he lived and taught. 

About the year 1823, at the age of eighteen, Mr. 
Keese entered as clerk the book and publishing house 
of Collins & Hannay, located in Pearl Street ; and 
after years of faithful service was admitted to a part- 



JOHN KEESE. g 

nership (about 1836), under the new firm-name of Col- 
lins, Keese & Co., which firm continued until 1842, 
when it was dissolved by mutual consent. He then 
formed a co-partnership with James E. Cooley and 
Horatio Hill, in the book-auction business, under the 
firm-name of Cooley, Keese & Hill ; and, subsequently, 
through the retirement of Mr. Hill, Cooley & Keese, 
which association continued to 1853 o^* 1854, when 
the firm was dissolved, and Mr. Keese obtained the 
appointment of Appraiser of Books in the New York 
Custom-House, which position he filled until his death, 
his spare evenings being employed, when health per- 
mitted, in his vocation of aucti(jnecr. A severe bron- 
chial affection, from which he had long been a sufferer, 
was the precursor to pulmonary consumption, and of 
that malady he died on the 30th of May, 1856, at the 
age of fifty years and six months. 

He married in 1832 Elizabeth Willcts, daughter of 
Zebulon S. Willets. Nine children were born to them, 
of whom six and their mother are still living. Three 
are no more. Jonathan Lawrence, the eldest of the 
children, died, in the flower of his youth, of a wound 
received from the accidental discharge of a musket, 
while a member of the Seventh Regiment, at Camp 
Cameron, in 1861;* Willets, the third child, perished 

* " On the gth of May, Private J. Lariie Keese, of the Eighth Company, 
was killed by the accidental discharge of a musket. As this was the first 
death in the regiment, and Keese was a young man of excellent business, 
social, and literary abilities, and a general favorite, gloom was cast over the 
camp. Appropriate resolutions were passed by his comrades, and a sergeant 
and six men were detailed by the colonel to accompany the remains, in their 



lO MEMOIR OF 

by drowning in 1843; and Edmund Willets, the eighth 
child, died in infancy. 

Throughout his career, Mr. Keese lost no opportu- 
nity for improving his mind and adding to his in- 
tellectual resources. The academic education he had 
received kindled his ambition, while it left him with 
wistful gaze bent on unexplored regions of knowl- 
edge ; and he sought in books a consolation for the 
university curriculum denied him by circumstance. 
He read almost omnivorously, and the gift of a sin- 
gularly retentive memory aided essentially in the pro- 
cess of self-cultivation. Nor did the knowledge thus 
gained suffer from stagnation. Whatever learning was 
his, circulated freely. He possessed an imaginative 
mind ; his perception was acute ; he was " witty and 
full of invention " ; his taste w^as catholic ; he was 
eminently companionable, and an admirable conver- 
sationalist ; and when, subsequently, he was drawn 
naturally into the society of book-men and men of 
letters, where there was no lack of mental friction, 
he contributed his full share to the intellectual com- 
merce of the hour. He loved to impart whatever he 
knew of interest or desert; he treasured up good 

metallic coffin, to Brooklyn. In the latter city, imposing and impressive 
funeral ceremonies were held at Christ Church by Rev. Dr. Canfield, and a 
throng of five thousand citizens came to pay the last rites of respect to the 
first of the long list of hero-martyrs that the Seventh Regiment was destined 
to furnish to the counliy. The cortege, preceded by an escort of the National 
Guard Reserve Corps and two platoons of the Ninth Regiment, and many 
military guests, proceeded to Greenwood Cemetery, where Keese was buried 
with military honors." — (" History of the Seventh Regiment," by William 
SWINTON, A. M.) 



JOHN KEESE. II 

things for his friends; and his fluent speecli was en- 
riched with illustrations born of his varied and well- 
remembered reading. In brief, the arms of his mental 
arsenal were constantly shouldered, aimed, and fired ! 
Many a man of infinitely greater culture has made 
less of an impression by his attainments. He was not 
a man of extensive erudition ; not a classical scholar ; 
nothing of a linguist. He knew something of the 
Greek and Latin authors through translations ; in the 
same way of French and Italian literature ; but there 
his knowledge in that direction ended. He was, in- 
deed, familiar with the English classics ; with the 
great body of English and American literature ; and 
especially with the poetry of both countries ; but this 
familiarity was due, not to the studious, painstaking 
application necessary to form the panopl}'^ of a college 
professor, but to a loving and appreciative course of 
reading in hours of leisure. It was not his fault that 
his mother-wit, his memory, and his intellectual readi- 
ness, combined, unconsciously to himself, to convey the 
impression of a scholarship greater than he had the 
good fortune to possess. 

In 1832 he was a member, and later the "Speaker," 
of " The Column," a literary association then flourish- 
ing in the city,* and numbering on its roll many 

* The Column Club still exists, and dined at Pinard's last spring. From 
an account of the dinner, published in the " New York World " the day 
after, the following details are extracted ; 

" In the year 1826 twenty young men organized a debating society in this 
city, which met once a week at the residence of some member of the society. 
The momentous questions debated were such that, were they now discussed 



12 MEMOIR OF 

names that became more or less distinguished — such 
as Anthony Robertson, Jonathan Nathan, John Gour- 
he, OHver Strong, and Augustus Schell. A society so 
congenial to his tastes could not fail to develop his 
proclivities, while it afforded a field for their exercise; 
and it was here, no doubt, that his fluency of speech, 
facility of retort, and sparkling wit, first became ap- 
parent as clearly defined mental characteristics ; and 
their recognition speedily advanced him to the speak- 
ership, and into gratifying popularity. 

The orations and speeches of famous orators and 

in Congress, the United States would be promptly plunged into war with 
every nation on earth. Each question was put to a vote, and in case of a tie 
the president at once, by his casting vote, decided, for example, ' whether 
England was justified or not in incarcerating Napoleon.' Finally, the de- 
bates became so very animated that no one would allow the club to meet 
in his private house, and the Rev, Dr. Lyell, rector of Christ Church, then 
on Anthony Street, now Worth Street, gave them the use of a small room at 
the back of the church. At that time the church was considered to be almost 
out of town, so that the eloquent orators could not disturb the quiet of the 
city. In the center of the room was a column to support the roof, and, as the 
club had no name, the Rev. Dr. Lyell suggested that it be called the 'Column 
Club' until the last member passed away. When the church was remodeled, 
shortly after. Judge Robertson gave the club the use of an attic in his palatial 
residence on that then fashionable and aristocratic thoroughfare, Leonard 
Street. The club was then nicknamed the ' Attic Club.' Judge Robertson 
soon found that he had made a very poor bargain, and drove them out. In 
1828 they secured the loft of the old sugar-house which stood on the comer 
of Broadway and Leonard Street, and here for many years subsequently they 
held forth to their own great satisfaction, but not to the peace of the Common- 
wealth of New York, Among those who have been foremost in the debates, 
and who are still in active life among us, are Mr. William M. Evarts, Mr. 
Hamilton Fish, Mr. Augustus Schell, Mr. John Bigelow, Mr. Edward S. Van 
Winkle, Mr. John H. Gourlie, Mr. Parke Godwin, Mr. William M. Pritchard, 
Mr. George B. Butler, Mr. George H. Hoffman, and Dr. Alonzo Clarke, all 
of whom dined last night at Pinard's, except Mr. Bigelow (who is abroad), and 
talked over their early days." 



JOHN KEESE. J3 

statesmen had a great attraction for him, and he was 
familiar with all recorded celebrated rhetorical efforts. 
Many passages of eloquence and beauty he retained 
in memory, and was never tired of repeating them. 
How well I remember the first time he recited to 
mc an extract from the speech of Lord Brougham 
on law reform, containing the famous antitheses : " It 
was the boast of Augustus — it formed part of the glare 
in which the perfidies of his earlier years were lost — 
that he found Rome of brick, and left it of marble; a 
praise not unworthy a great prince, and to which the 
present reign also has its claims. But how much nobler 
will be the sovereign's boast, when he shall have it to 
say that he found law dear, and left it cheap ; found it a 
sealed book — left it a living letter; found it the patri- 
mony of the rich — left it the inheritance of the poor; 
found it the two-edged sword of craft and oppression — 
left it the staff of honesty and the shield of innocence ! " 

Then he loved to recall a striking figure made by 
Rufus Choate, in an oration he heard him deliver in 
New York, in which figure the Empire City, com- 
manding tribute from land and water, was thus finely 
pictured: Drawing himself to his full height and ex- 
tending both arms, the orator exclaimed, "With one 
hand she grasps the teeming harvests of the West, and 
with the other, like Venice, weds the everlasting sea ! " 

Extracts from the speeches of Chatham, Pitt, Burke, 
Fox, wSheridan, Grattan, Erskine, Curran, Calhoun, 
Webster, Clay, he could repeat at will ; and the writer 
owes many an hour of delightful instruction to ac- 



14 MEMOIR OF 

counts, made vivid by quotation, of the efforts of those 
illustrious men. 

A little volume of the addresses delivered by Dr. 
Nott, at Union College, to the candidates for the bac- 
calaureate, was an especial favorite ; and, as now I turn 
its leaves, his admiration and fondness for those glow- 
ing and lofty discourses are remembered. I pause to 
quote the following passage from one of the addresses, 
as serving to indicate the character of an eloquence 
that so affected him ; and one can fancy how power- 
fully swayed must have been the doctor's listeners : 

" I have often, young gentlemen, recommended to 
you a sacred adherence to truth. I would on this 
occasion repeat the recommendation, that I may fix it 
the more indelibly on your hearts. Believe me, when 
I tell you that on this article you can never be too 
scrupulous. Truth is one of the fairest attributes of 
Deity. It is the boundary which sepai-ates vice from 
virtue — the line which divides heaven from hell. It 
is the chain which binds the man of integrity to the 
throne of God, and, like the God to whose throne it 
binds him, till this chain is dissolved, his word may 
be relied on. Suspended on this, 3^our property, your 
reputation, your life, are safe. But against the malice 
of a liar there is no security. He can be bound by 
nothing. His soul is already repulsed to an immeas- 
urable distance from that Divinity a sense of whose 
presence is the security of virtue. He has sundered 
the last of those moral ligaments which bind a mortal 
to his duty. And having done so, through the ex- 



JOHN KEESE. I 5 

tended region of fraud and falsehood, without a bond 
to check or a limit to confine him, he ranges, the 
dreaded enemy of innocence ; whose lips pollute even 
truth itself as it passes through them, and whose breath, 
like the pestilential mists of hades, blasts, and soils, 
and poisons as it touches." 

He greatly admired the speeches made by Kossuth, 
during his visit as the guest of the nation in 185 1 ; and 
I seem to hear his enthusiastic praise of the patriot's 
eloquence, so clear is the recollection of how it stirred 
and impressed him. 

As in those of prose, Mr. Keese was as rich in 
treasures of poetry. His memory was stored with 
gems of verse, easily summoned to embellish a speech, 
to supply a poetic image, to furnish an instance of 
beauty, and to entertain.* 

He was fond of reciting to his children, and I well 
remember the effect produced by his recitation in the 
family circle one evening of Byron's " Prisoner of Chil- 



* The late Mr. Henry Morford, in an appreciative sketch published in 
1880, refers as follows to Mr. Keese's entertaining versatility: "Not second 
even to Mr. Keese's wit, in the ordinary understanding of that word, was his 
really wondrous talent for improvisation. At no time did it seem difficult for 
him to take up magazine or newspaper, and read from it a page or column, 
not one word of which existed in print, and yet so perfect in composition that 
no one could fail to be deceived until after-examination of the sheet showed 
the trick ; and what could go nearer to the very highest honors claimed for 
the Italian improvisatores? His reading aloud was almost as mai"vclous as 
the last accomplishments named. Nearly forty years have not dimmed, 
in the mind of the writer, the recollection of having first heard him read 
Longfellow's ' Skeleton in Armor,' then just published, the ' Ancient Mari- 
ner,' ' Christabel,' and some of the finer passages of Shelley, Scott, Byron, 
and others of the English classics." 



1 6 MEMOIR OF 

Ion " — our first acquaintance with that fascinating poem. 

All through — the description of the brothers ; the one 

whose 

"... soul wTS of that mold 
Which in a palace had grown cold, 
Had his free breathing been denied 
The range of the steep mountain's side" — 

and he 

"... the favorite and the flower, 
Most cherished since his natal hour, 
His mother's image in fair face. 
The infant love of all his race " — 

their death, and the last brother's agony and swoon — 
the lovely bird that came to his grated window — the 
slow-dragging years : 

"At last men came to set me free, 
I asked not why, and recked not where ; 
It was at length the same to me. 
Fettered or fetterless to be — 
I learned to love despair " — 

all this, the pathos and eloquence of the narrative, 
affected us in no small degree, and many succeeding 
weeks found me engaged in committing the poem to 
memory. 

There was another poem he used to recite to us, 
and we shall never forget the effect it produced. It 
was the story of a poor, half-witted boy, who lived 
alone with his mother, a widow. She died, and he 



JOHN KEESE. 1 7 

followed silently when she was borne to the grave. 
Left there, and incapable of realizing the fact of death, 
he opens the grave, bears home the corse, kindles 
anew the fire, and endeavors to reanimate the lifeless 
form. This poem we often listened to, and I once 
wrote it down from memory ; but was never sure of 
my recollection. I could never find it in any book of 
selections, and never knew who was the author. Some 
years ago, I encountered it for the first time in print, 
in Forney's " Anecdotes of Public Men," as having 
been recited by Edwin Forrest with surpassing effect 
at a gathering of friends in Mr. Forney's rooms at 
Washington, some time between the years i860 and 
1 87 1. Mr. Forney says, in alluding to Forrest's splen- 
did contribution to the evening's entertainment, " But 
nothing that he did will be remembered longer than 
the manner in which he recited ' The Idiot Boy,' a 
production up to that time unknown to everybody 
in the room except Forrest and myself, and to me 
only because I heard him repeat it seven years be- 
fore." 

Forney, having heard Forrest repeat it seven years 
prior to the occasion quoted (probably 1861), would 
make his knowledge of it date from 1854; but I re- 
member hearing the poem from my father long before 
that, so it was not unknown to him. And now, since 
so much has been said about a composition that cer- 
tainly was distinguished by association, it may be of 
interest to our readers to see it for themselves. I 
copy the verses as given by Colonel Forney : 



MEMOIR OF 

THE IDIOT BOY. 

It had pleased God to form poor Ned 

A thing of idiot mind, 
Yet, to the poor, unreasoning boy, 

God had not been unkind. 

Old Sarah loved her helpless child, 
Whom helplessness made dear ; 

And he was everything to her, 
Who knew no hope or fear. 

She knew his wants, she understood 

Each half-articulate call. 
For he was everything to her, 

And she to him was all. 

And so for many a year they lived. 

Nor knew a wish beside ; 
But age at last on Sarah came, 

And she fell sick — and died. 

He tried in vain to waken her, 
He called her o'er and o'er ; 

And, when they told him she was dead, 
The words no import bore. 

They closed her eyes and shrouded her. 
While he stood wondering by, 

And, when they bore her to the grave, 
He followed silently. 



JOHN KEESE. 

They laid her in the narrow house, 
They sang the funeral stave ; 

And, when the funeral train dispersed, 
He lingered by that grave. 

The rabble boys, that used to jeer 
Whene'er they saw poor Ned, 

Now stood and watched him by the grave, 
And not a word they said. 

They came and went and came again. 

Till night at last came on ; 
Yet still he lingered by the grave 

Till every one had gone. 

And when he found himself alone, 

He swift removed the clay; 
Then raised the coffin up in haste, 

And bore it swift away. 

He bore it to his mother's cot, 

And laid it on the floor, 
And with the eagerness of joy 

He barred the cottage door. 

Then out he took his mother's corpse, 

And placed it in a chair; 
And soon he heaped the hearth and made 

The kindling fire with care. 

He had put his mother in her chair, 

And in its wonted place, 
And then he blew the fire, which shone, 

Reflected in her face. 



19 



20 MEMOIR OF 

And, pausing now, her hand would feel, 

And then her face behold : 
" Why, mother, do you look so pale, 

And why are you so cold ? " 

It had pleased God from the poor wretch 

His only friend to call ; 
Yet God was kind to him, and soon 

In death restored him all. 

I have preserved a record of a booksellers' dinner — 
a " complimentary entertainment by the booksellers of 
New York to authors and other literary and distin- 
guished men " — given at the City Hotel, March 30, 1837. 
This was over forty-five years ago, and few, if any, in- 
deed, of the company then met are now living. Yet 
there may be descendants of some of them who will feel 
an interest in a scene where names familiar and dear to 
them appear. 

David Felt presided on the occasion, assisted by 
Fletcher Harper and others as vice-presidents ; George 
Dearborn, a well-known publisher, officiated as master- 
of-ceremonies, and Mr. Keese as toast-master. He had 
then been of the firm of Collins, Keese & Co. for more 
than a year, and his genial qualities had gained him 
many friends among the booksellers and publishers of 
New York and elsewhere. 

Among the entertainers and guests were Albert 
Gallatin, Chancellor Kent, Colonel Trumbull, Washing- 
ton Irving, William CuUen Bryant, Fitz-Greene Halleck, 
Rev. Orville Dewey, James K. Paulding, William L. 



JOHN KEESE. 21 

Stone, Harrison Gray, James Harper, Charles King, 
Major Noah, Philip Hone, John W. Francis, Lewis Gay- 
lord Clark, George P. Morris, Edgar A. Poe, Richard 
Adams Locke, George P. Putnam, Henry Inman, J. G. 
Chapman, and many others. 

The opening address, previous to introducing the 
regular toasts, was delivered by Mr. Keese ; and, in the 
course of it, he spoke with much feeling of the occasion 
which had brought them together, and of the fraternal 
relation between author and publisher, which it was de- 
signed to foster and maintain for mutual benefit. Glanc- 
ing at the progress of American literature, and viewing 
the animating prospect of the future, he said : " When 
we survey the geographical position of these United 
States — when we behold our vast region bounded by no 
diversity of language, and all its borders teeming with a 
reading community — we discover a wide field for the 
transmission of the literature of our countrymen. No 
nation on the face of the earth displays such peculiar 
advantages for the circulation and consumption of intel- 
lectual produce." 

The following extract, in which Cooper, Kent, Irv- 
ing, and Halleck were happily alluded to, was received 
with enthusiasm : " Sir, it is a well-known fact that the 
publishers in our principal cities have justlv and mu- 
nificently appreciated the intellect of our land, and her 
sons have shared largely with the bookseller in the 
profits derived from their literar}^ labors. The histori- 
cal and creative genius of one w^ho is not inaptly termed 
^ our pioneer oi mind'; the commentaries of our Ameri- 



22 MEMOIR OF 

can Blackstone ; the splendid sketches of our oivn par- 
ticular son (who, greeted with the incense of foreign 
praise, has brought back to us a heart untraveled and a 
love for home), together with the works of gifted minds 
in every department of science, poesy, and fiction, all 
attest the liberality and enterprise of American publish- 
ers. We desire still further to explore the mind where 
mental ore lies buried, to awaken shimbering genius, 
and to call into active exercise the dormant energy and 
shrinking talent of our young and much-loved land. 
Why sleeps the Muse of Drake's twin-brother bard? 
Why comes not he forth with fairy wand to silence the 
scribblers of the day ? Who among us would not es- 
teem it a high honor to be his publisher, and to issue his 
beautiful creations in a guise as beautiful as the taste of 
our best artisans can exhibit? " * 

The speech of the evening, in weight and impor- 
tance, was delivered by William L. Stone, then senior 
of the editorial corps in New York city, in response to 
the toast of " The periodical press." It was noteworthy 
for its wealth of statistical information respecting book- 
publication, as well as for its vigorous and felicitous dic- 
tion. A vein of scholarly erudition ran through it, 
and occasional touches of sprightly and fanciful humor 
saved it from any approach to prosiness. 

There were speeches by Harrison Gray, James Har- 
per, Charles King, Major Noah, Matthew L. Davis, 

* Three years later, Mr. Keese made good his wish to present the pro- 
ductions of American mind, by the issue of his " Poets of America," " in a 
guise as beautiful " as the compilation deserved. 



JOHN KEESE. 23 

Chancellor Kent, Philip Hone, John W. Francis, Wash- 
ington Irving, and James K. Paulding. 

It may amuse a later generation of Franklin Square 
publishers to read the pleasant little speech made by one 
of their ancestors ; and I hope they will enjoy it as much 
as his listeners did in 1837. In response to the toast, 
" The booksellers of New York," Mr. James Harper, 
being long and loudly called for, finally rose and ob- 
served : That he was at a loss to know why he 
should be singled out to respond to the compliment, as 
there were many of the trade present greatly his sen- 
iors. Besides, it was well known to his brethren that he 
was no orator — that it was entirely out of his line to 
make speeches — that he was simply a humble maker of 
books, and that this alone was his profession. Therefore, 
although the subject and the occasion were of a highly 
prolific character, still he should not attempt a speech 
on the occasion — for, if he should, he would assuredly 
find himself in the dilemma of a certain Massachusetts 
orator, who, while addressing a public assembly, unfor- 
tunately lost the thread of his discourse, and, hesitating 
to recover his lost ideas, was addressed from the gallery 
by a raw country lad, "/ say, Mister, I guess yoii re stuck.'' 
"And, Mr. President " (added Mr. Harper, after a pause), 
" so am I ! " 

Matthew L. Davis, in the course of a few remarks, 
said that being one of the oldest of those present who 
had been engaged in the manufacture of books, he recol- 
lected some interesting facts in the progress of the art ; 
and mentioned as a remarkable contrast to its extent at 



24 



MEMOIR OF 



that day, that about twenty years back, when an edition 
of Brown's " Commentary on the Bible " was projected 
in New York, the Legislature of the State passed, in both 
branches, a resolution recommending public patronage 
to the immense undertaking. 

The speech of Dr. Francis called forth the warmest 
plaudits. It was full of humorous suggestion, and emi- 
nently characteristic of the man. 

Washington Irving, in proposing the health of Sam- 
uel Rogers, the banker-poet, referred to a letter he had 
received the previous day from Mr. Rogers, acknowl- 
edging the receipt of a volume of Halleck's poems, and 
speaking of them in the highest terms. Of " Marco 
Bozzaris " and "Alnwick Castle," " They are better than 
anything we can do just now on our side of the Atlan- 
tic," said Rogers. 

Letters were read from Fenimore Cooper, Nicholas 
Biddle, Edward Everett, Daniel Webster, Noah Web- 
ster, Gulian C. Verplanck, and many others. 

Some of the toasts and sentiments were as follow : 

From Noah Webster : " May booksellers honorably 
rival each other in the sale of good books, and may good 
books find or make good readers and good citizens I " 

From N. P. Willis: "The republic of letters — in 
which all who speak the same language are com- 
patriots, and should reciprocate protection and kind 
feeling." 

By Lewis Gaylord Clark : " Protection to home 
manufactures, whether of the hands or of the intellect." 

By Edgar A. Poe : " The monthlies of Gotham — 



JOHN KEESE. 25 

their distinguished editors and their vigorous collabora- 
tors." 

By Fletcher Harper : " Booksellers — generous indi- 
viduals, who kindly assist authors to obtain an immor- 
tality in which they themselves do not participate." 

By George P. Putnam : '' The female intellects of 
our country — brilliant luminaries in its literary hori- 
zon." 

By John Keese : *' The memory of Cadmus, the first 
postboy. He carried letters from Phoenicia to Greece." 

Such was the occasion, interesting and memorable for 
those who participated in it so long ago, and it seems an 
old story to revive and print in this present year of 
grace. Yet there is a charm in any record of the past 
which bears the names of those who dying left an 
honored memory, or a rich legacy in their works ; and 
as the gatherings of authors and men of letters have 
yielded haunting pages of literary history, so may this 
" Booksellers' Dinner " prove a w^elcomc leaf, though 
pressed for so many years. 

I confess, however, at the same time, to a wish to 
show the society and association enjoyed by JNIr. Keese 
at this period, and to hint at the advantages and oppor- 
tunities offered by such acquaintance and connections 
for social and commercial advancement. He profited 
greatly thereby ; and that he was not unworthy of the 
friendships then begun, the continuance of the relation 
in sympathy and regard for long years thereafter suffi- 
ciently assures me. 

Mr. Keese was a genuine Gothamite. He loved 



26 MEMOIR OF 

New York as Sydney Smith loved London. It was the 
field par excellence for the development of social instinct, 
for intellectual expansion, and for interchange of ideas. 
The city's march in improvement and extent he watched 
with constant interest, and in her growing greatness felt 
a becoming pride. Yet his " down-town " apprentice- 
ship had familiarized him with the old landmarks, and 
their effacement, consequent upon metropolitan advance, 
tinged his pride with regret at the loss of historic sig- 
nificance. I now recall how at a later date, when the 
question of opening a street through Trinity Church- 
yard was agitated, this feeling found expression in the 
following lines from a poem of local character, written 
for a literary society in which he was interested : 

*' The ancient grave-yard where our fathers sleep, 
Thus far's resisted innovation's sweep ; 
But sacrilegious hands would fain deface 
The sacred soil that marks their resting-place. 
The untutored Indian lingers by the mound ; 
His father's grave is consecrated ground ; 
And where old Trinity its grandeur rears, 
Lies holy dust, hallowed by many tears. 
Here sleeps the Sailor from whose dying lip 
Fell words immortal — ' Don't give up the ship ! ' 
The dust of Hamilton reposes near ; 
New York's gray veterans are buried here ; 
Statesmen and warriors, holy men of God, 
Manhattan's matrons, sleep beneath that sod. 
Genius has hallowed many a moldering stone ; 
Here slept the patriot when his work was done ; 



JOHN KEESE. 2/ 

Many lie here who welcomed freedom's birth — 

Oh, spare their graves ! — 'tis consecrated earth ; 

Sacred from aught, save where the evening breeze 

Sighs a sad requiem through swaying trees ; 

Sacred from sound, save where the deep-toned bell 

O'er clustering graves repeats their funeral-knell, 

Or calls the living to those early times 

When those who rest there listened to those chimes. 

Oh, let not Mammon's specious hands improve 

A soil embalmed with tears of faith and love ! 

Let the world see that here there are some spots 

Too sacred and too dear for ' building-lots.' 

Let Speculation take another range, 

Nor sell our fathers' bones at the Exchange ! " 

Mr. Keese was passionately fond of the drama, and 
witnessed the acting of all the great artists of his time. 
In early days, when clerking it on a modest salary, he 
often dispensed with a meal that he might have the 
wherewithal to buy a seat in the pit of the Old Park, 
during the engagement of Edmund Kean on his second 
visit to America in 1825. All the renowned actors 
whose names are associated with the "palmy days" of 
that famous theatre, he saw, and his recollections of 
their performances were vivid and interesting. He 
possessed a no small degree of mimetic power, and 
often entertained a social circle with imitations of 
celebrated actors, simulating voice, gesture, and method 
with surprising accuracy. A favorite effort was the 
tent-scene in "Richard III," after the manner of Kean, 
and it was thought to be a close approach to the style 



28 MEMOIR OF 

of the great tragedian. His admiration for Kean was 
boundless, and he was never tired of talking about him, 
and of describing the impression his acting produced 
on himself and others. He declared that he was so 
affected by the curse in Lear, that Kean's countenance 
— his trembling, imprecatory hands — for days after, 
were constantly before his eyes like a vision. 

An instance of the imitative faculty spoken of created 
an amusing scene in the auction-room one evening, and 
I will introduce it here. The incident is related by 
Laurence Hutton, in his volume of " Plays and Players," 
and I give it in his own words : 

" Of John Keese, a well-known auctioneer in New 
York during the past generation, the following auction- 
room story is still told : At a book- sale here during the 
first great ' Hunchback ' excitement, while the Kembles 
were nightly appearing in the play, Mr. Keese knocked 
down two volumes to the bid of a mild little gentleman, 
who, upon being asked his name, rephed faintly and 
frightenedly, 'Clifford!' Immediately striking the fa- 
mihar attitude, Mr. Keese exclaimed, * 'Tis CHfford's 
voice, if ever Clifford spoke ! ' and, after the storm of 
laughter which followed had subsided, and as the quiet 
gentleman, very much disconcerted, was hurrying from 
the room, he added, with all the pathetic intensity of 
Miss Kemble herself, 'Clifford, why dont you speak to 
me ? ' 

" The sale was interrupted for many minutes. There 
was, perhaps, hardly a man in the room who was not 
as familiar with the tone and style of Miss Kemble, and 



JOHN KEESE. 29 

with that particular scene in the play, as was Mr. Keese ; 
and the applause he received was as hearty as ever en- 
couraged the best Jiilia on the professional stage. Clif- 
ford never called to claim his books." 

Mr. Keese would have made an excellent actor; and 
his dramatic aptitude and fondness for the stage led 
him sometimes to take part in private theatricals. One 
of those occasions may be briefl}' referred to. It was 
when an amateur representation of " The Rivals " was 
given, forty years ago, at New Brighton, Staten Island 
— then the city's most fashionable summer resort — by 
ladies and gentlemen of New York society, or, to borrow 
the phrase of the newspaper report, " by the fair daugh- 
ters and wits of Gotham." 

Private theatricals at that time were something of a 
novelty, and it was well known that unusual prepara- 
tions had been made to present the comedy with becom- 
ing and artistic fitness. The progress of rehearsal had 
kindled anticipation, and the gay party at " The Pavil- 
ion " were in a flutter of excitement and delight at what 
promised to be in all respects the crowning event of the 
season. 

At last the evening came, and with it a goodly host 
of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis. The 
spacious saloon of " The Pavilion " had been prepared 
and dressed for the occasion, and exhibited to the admir- 
ing audience a bewitching scene of refined and elegant 
adornment. Music, light, and fragrance contributed to 
augment the charm. 

The affair was a complete success, and elicited enthu- 



30 



MEMOIR OF 



siastic plaudits. I can not vouch for the acting, but it 
was reported to have been excellent at all points. It is 
to be hoped that it was so, since the late Henry Placide, 
that rare comedian, was among the attentive auditors. 

'* At the fall of the curtain," says a record of the en- 
tertainment, '' the audience, consisting of nearly five 
hundred persons, composed of the wealth, fashion, and 
beauty of New York, ' called out ' the performers, who 
bowed their acknowledgments. Sir Lucius O ' Trigger (Mr. 
Keese), however, was called on for a speech, and accord- 
ingly made the following appropriate remarks : ' On my 
conscience, ladies and gentlemen, I appear before you 
with more than my usual modest diffidence ; for, although 
I see around me roses and tulips, blooming in parterres, 
we can boast too of one " sweet Dalia " behind the cur- 
tain, that, by my own blushes, would rival the brightest 
carnation among you. Most gratefully do I thank you, 
ladies and gentlemen, for the kind countenance and 
patient attention you have given to our amateur efforts 
this evening ; and, although we have not been entirely 
" absolute " in our perfection, nor perhaps merited the 
kindness and consideration of such "acres" of friends, 
on my faith, we will never cease to be " Rivals." 

He never lost his interest in the drama ; and, indeed, 
it was given a new lease of life when, after William E. 
Burton established himself in Chambers Street, he be- 
came acquainted with that great actor. His old-time 
friend, the late lamented James T. Fields, in his pathetic 
sketch of reminiscence,* bore him thus in memory : 

* "Then." " Harper's Magazine," August, 1881. 



JOHN KEESE. 3 1 

" Then John Keese, good-natured, merry soul, intro- 
duced us to Mr. Manager Mitchell and pretty Mary 
Taylor, behind the scenes at the small Olympic." 

I now come to an important period in my father's 
career — that of editorship. It has been said that he was 
an ardent lover of poetry. The English poets he had 
read and was familiar with, and many of them had been 
subjects of diligent and appreciative study. His tena- 
cious memory garnered as he read, and to the end of his 
life those rich resources were his to draw upon at any 
moment. And now a warm interest in the progress of 
American poetry awoke within him, and a survey of the 
garden of native song allured him to the loving task of 
gathering a garland of its fllowers. 

The first volume of the " Poets of America " was pub- 
lished in 1840. Edgar A. Poe, who, whatever may have 
been his faults in a critical capacity, and despite his ran- 
corous tendency, was certainly competent to pass upon 
such a work, sa)'s, in his review of " Mr. Griswold and 
the Poets," after noticing the respective collections of 
Kettell, Cheever, Morris, and Bryant : " Mr. Keese suc- 
ceeded much better. He brought to his task, if not the 
most rigorous impartiality, at least a fine taste, a sound 
judgment, and a more thorough acquaintance with our 
poetical literature than had distinguished either of his 
predecessors." 

The lack of "rigorous impartiality" may have been 
owing to the fact that many of the writers whose names 
gave luster to the volume were held in personal esteem ; 



32 



MEMOIR OF 



and friendly feeling, possibly, in a measure swayed the 
judgment ; but, in any view, the compilation was really 
the first repository that could lay claim to being dis- 
tinctly representative of native poetry, presented in an 
attractive form. " American poetry," says the editor's 
preface, " has hitherto been little more than a happy 
accident, and seems to have arisen in spite of the prac- 
tical tendencies of our country and the prosaic character 
of our time. ... It has usually come before the public 
eye in small, detached portions, with slight pretension to 
permanence in the form of its publication, and has been 
rescued from speedy oblivion only by its own beauty 
and power. The genius of the artist and the liberality 
of the publisher have done far too little toward pre- 
senting in an attractive shape and with due advan- 
tages the finest productions of our poets. We have left 
our pearls unstrung. We have made few attempts to 
heighten the brilliancy of our gems by the beauty of 
their setting." 

No one will doubt the truth of these words who will 
consider for a moment how the popular taste for many 
years past has come to regard illustrations as an almost 
indispensable adjunct to collections of poetry ; and that 
publishers are as truly alive to the importance of pic- 
torial embellishment as they are to that of the text it 
adorns. It was, then, prophetic forecast to discern the 
needed element. The reading public was quick to rec- 
ognize the delicate and graceful creations of the artist's 
pencil in " The Poets of America," and the work in two 
series passed through several editions, universally com- 



JOHN KEESE. 33 

mended by the press, and admired by all lovers of 
poetry. * 

The " Poetical Remains " of Miss Lucy Hooper, a 
young and gifted poetess of Brooklyn, in whose career 



* The following editorial, under the heading of " Our Poets Forty-three 
Years ago," appeared in the Boston " Evening Transcript " of March i, 18S2 : 

" It is worth while sometimes to look back on our past and sec what it 
promised ; then to return to the present and see how those promises have 
been kept. In the realm of poetry, many have been realized, exceeding the 
most sanguine expectations of the author's best friends. We have before us 
a book bound in a fine, old-fashioned elegance, entitled ' The Poets of 
America : illustiated by one of her Painters,' edited by John Keese, and 
copyrighted by Samuel Colman, of New York, in 1839. I" ^''^ preface the 
editor says : ' American poetry has hitherto been little more than a happy 
accident, and seems to have arisen in spite of the practical tendencies of our 
country and the prosaic character of our time. It has been produced mostly 
by minds devoted to sterner studies, and in brief intervals of leisure snatched 
from more engrossing toils. The intellectual energy of our land has as yet 
consecrated itself, perhaps too exclusively, to the mighty work of preparing 
a spacious home for the thronging multitudes of our population, and building 
up for their protection a great national polity. The main part of our poet- 
ical literature, therefore, has been occasional and fugitive. It has usually 
come before the public eye in small, detached portions, with slight pretension 
to permanence in the form of its publication, and has been rescued from 
speedy oblivion only by its own beauty and power. ... Of the literary char- 
acter of this work it is not necessary that the editor should speak. He 
has sought to present, in a fitting form, some of the finest specimens — the 
true spirit of American poetry ; and, if he has not failed in his attempt, the 
volume surely is worthy of perusal and preservation. He commends it, then, 
to the library and the boudoir. He trusts that the bright glance of the beau- 
tiful and the accomplished will always rest upon its pages with pleasure, and 
that even the sobriety of scholarship and the sternness of criticism will some- 
times kindle into the enthusiasm of praise.' 

"The birthday of our poet Longfellow brought this old book to mind, as 
he was one of those complimented by two selections in the eighty-eight 
'specimens' from sixty-one different authors, a list of whom we annex. It 
will be a curiosity to many of our readers, and to many call up some pre- 
cious memories : 

" Allston, Bry.mt, Brooks, Barker, Burr, Bird, Cutter, Clarke, Drake 
Davidson, Dana, Doane, Dawes, Dinnies, Daponte, Everett, Ellet, Embur}% 
3 



34 



MEMOIR OF 



he had taken a warm interest, were gathered and pub- 
lished with a memior in 1842 ; and the volume gained 
an added and tender grace in bearing the sweet and 
loving tribute of Whittier, commencing — 

" They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead — 

That all of thee we loved and cherished 
Has with thy summer roses perished ; 

And left, as its young beauty fled, 

An ashen memory in its stead ! 

Cold twilight of a parted day." 

And ending — 

*'A11 lovely things by thee beloved 

Shall whisper to our hearts of thee. 
These green hills where thy childhood roved, 

Yon river winding to the sea — 
The sunset light of autumn eves 

Reflecting on the deep, still floods, 
Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves 

Of rainbow-tinted woods — 
These, in our view, shall henceforth take 
A tenderer meaning for thy sake, 
And all thou loved'st of earth and sky 
Seem sacred to thy memory ! " 

In 1843 the poems of Elizabeth Oakes-Smith ap- 
peared under his editorship ; and he wisely supple- 
Fay, Gould, Oilman, Halleck, Hale, Holmes, Hillhouse, Hoffman, Irving, 
Longfellow, Leggett, Lawrence, M'Lellan, Moore, Mitchell, Mellen, Nor- 
ton, Neal, Percival, Peabody, Pierpont, Pinkney, Prentice, Pickering, Pauld- 
ing, Rockwell, Sprague, Sutermeister, Sigourney, Simms, Sands, Smith, 
Street, Sargent, Tuckerman, Timrod, Woodworth, Wilcox, Willis, Wilde, 
Whittier, Wells." 



JOHN KEESE. 35 

merited his preface with a sketch of " Major Jack 
Downing- " (the husband of the poetess), by John Neal, 
and an analysis of Mrs. Smith's genius and character, by 
Henry T. Tuckerman ; thus bringing- into general notice 
the Hterary procHvities and achievements of both writ- 
ers, and winning for them immediate and appreciative 
regard. It was characteristic of him to do this, for he 
constantly sought,, not only to encourage the efforts of 
laudable ambition, but to aid substantially in the recog- 
nition and the circulation of its fruits. Many a despond- 
ent author in those days was cheered and comforted 
by his generous sympathy ; and, while still he recom- 
mended patience, he encouraged hope and would not 
entertain despair. In this same year he suffered his first 
domestic bereavement, in the death of his third child, a 
noble boy of five years. Playing with some companions 
on the pier near the South Ferry, at the foot of Atlantic 
Street, he accidentally fell into the river, and was 
drowned before succor could reach him. 

"Spring was unfolding like his own fresh life. 
When from the bosom of parental love, 
And boyhood's merry sports, an instant's strife 
Bore him all stainless to a home above."* 

Out of the feeling engendered by this visitation of 
sorrow grew the little offering of sympathy called " The 
Mourner's Chaplet," a collection of American elegiac 
poems, carefully chosen for their consolatory spirit, pub- 
lished the following year. In the same year appeared 



" The Early Called," by Henry T. Tuckerman. 



36 MEMOIR OF 

the first of his annuals—" The Wintergreen " — and it 
was probably about that time that he was also engaged 
in furnishing a large portion of the text for the quarto 
" North American Scenery, from Drawings by White- 
field." In 1846 he published " The Opal, a Pure Gift for 
the Holidays " ; and its popularity induced the prepara- 
tion of a second volume in 1847. "The Forest Legen- 
dary," a collection of metrical tales of the North Amer- 
ican woods, appeared in 1848; and his gift-book, " The 
Floral Keepsake," in 1850. This completes the list of 
publications edited by Mr. Keese ; and, although not a 
formidable one, it was much to have accomplished un- 
der pressure of business, which, far from ceasing with 
the day, demanded frequent nightly service. Viewed in 
no sense as origifial productions, the various works cited 
were, at least, so many evidences of good taste, literary 
discrimination, and a thoughtful consideration of the 
claims of genius ; and there is something highly merito- 
rious in the fact that all this painstaking labor was in 
obedience to an impulse to exalt our literature, and in 
dedication to the cause of refined culture. The educa- 
tion of the community always seemed to him a prime 
desideratum. He believed in the Baconian notion that 
knowledge is power ; and it gave him the greatest sat- 
isfaction, at a later period of his life, to make public ex- 
pression of his views in that regard, which he did in a 
lecture on " The Influence of Knowledge," delivered at 
the New York Tabernacle, in 1852. 

The late Evert A. Duyckinck was of opinion that, 
had not my father been closely attached to the book busi- 



JOHN KEESE. 37 

ness from his youth, he would probably have been an 
author.' He certainly might have been a creator and 
worker in some department of literature ; but I can not 
say that he was organized for systematic and sustained 
intellectual fulfillment. He would have been perspica- 
cious as a critical essayist, admirable as a book-re- 
viewer, expert and felicitous as a writer of vers de soci- 
dte ; fertile in literary expedients, he might have made a 
successful journalist ; but his mind was too alert and 
eager for the restraints of patient authorship. It was so 
much easier for him to talk than to write ! He was a 
man of society ; and what he said there, on the spur of 
the moment, drawn forth or suggested by the turns of 
conversation, was so much better and brighter than any- 
thing he could have produced by deliberation, that it is 
a question whether in subjection to imposed discipline 
he would not have lost in freshness and spontaneity. All 
things considered, I feel that his part was well taken, 
and I believe that no regret tinged his thought in any 
silent hour of retrospection. 

He never, that I am aware of, made any attempt to 
collect his fugitive poems for publication. They were 
few in number and widely scattered. But, if all the 
jests, epigrams, and impromptu verses, that were his, 
and all the sonnets, valentines, dedicatory poems, etc., 
etc., written for friends, for years and years, should 
be printed, they would make a portly volume, and 
eloquently testify to the author's obliging disposition 
and good nature. 

During most of the period mentioned above, our 



38 



MEMOIR OF 



family occupied a house on the north side of Atlantic 
Street, nearly opposite to where was once the eastern 
opening of the now-filled-in tunnel — which tunnel, by- 
the-way, was begun and finished while we lived there — 
and there some of the happiest years of my father's life 
were passed — years of prosperity and health ; years 
fruitful in culture ; years rich in genial companionship 
and intellectual communion ; years golden in the memo- 
ries they have left. It was there that he gathered around 
him a literary group, comprising names well known to a 
past generation, and the writings of many of whom still 
command respect and admiration. 

The writer of these pages, like Halleck's " Fanny," 
was younger once than he is now ; but he is not old 
enough to have belonged to that past in the sense that 
will permit him to paint that circle with the hues of 
memory. With the exception of Charles Fenno Hoff- 
man and Henry Theodore Tuckerman, who were fre- 
quent and familiar visitors, recollection is dim and un- 
certain ; and another pen must arrest and inform with 
light and color the shadowy figures of my retrospect. 
Happily for my readers, that pen is at my command, 
though the hand that wielded it so deftly lies pulseless 
in the grave. 

In June, 1880, the late Henry Morford * wrote, and 
published in the magazine bearing his name, an appre- 
ciative and interesting sketch, in the course of which the 
identical group in question was drawn. I deem it es- 
pecially good fortune to be thus enabled to complete my 

* Henry Morford was born March lo, 1823, and died in 1881. 



JOHN KEESE. 39 

record of an important period; and, if any excuse were 
needed for introducing Mr. Morford's felicitous portrait- 
ure, it would be found in the remembrance of his warm 
attachment to my father, and in my gratitude for his ex- 
pression of friendship. 

A LITERARY GROUP 

OF FORTY YEARS AGO. 

{Extracted fro7)i a sketch entitled ''John Keese ; his Inti- 
mates, etc!' First published in ''Morjoi'd's Magazine,'' June, 
1880.] 

Forty years have passed since the writer, then on the 
verge of manhood, came up to the city of New York, 
one Saturday evening, from his place of residence in the 
country, especially to remain over the Sunday, and to 
spend the evening of that day at John Reese's, on Atlan- 
tic Street, not far from Court Street, Brooklyn, almost 
exactly where, at that time (as the memory comes back 
to-day), ended the tunnel running up Atlantic Street 
from the South Ferry, for the use of the railroad to Ja- 
maica. 

What was the number of that house on Atlantic 
Street ? Does the house still stand ? Enough to say 
that the eye does not readily pick it out, if it exists : as a 
house, and for any purpose connected with this paper, it 
has ceased to be. 

And yet this should not be so ; for within the walls 
of that house, that evening and on many which followed, 
with and without the presence of the writer, was gath- 



40 MEMOIR OF 

ered a literary circle which has rarely been equaled in 
America in numbers, and which has scarcely ever had 
its superior in the quality of the persons composing it, 
except possibly now and again when so has gathered 
the literary force of the Middle States round Washing- 
ton Irving in his golden days at Sunnyside, or when the 
culture of Boston and its clustering supplementary 
towns of Massachusetts has so gathered with Longfel- 
low or Lowell or Holmes, in the days since England 
pronounced Boston the " intellectual center of the United 
States." If the old walls are still standing, they should 
have memories of the voices that forty years ago rang 
through them, in wit, pathos, and wisdom, only second 
to those clustering under the roof of banker-poet Sam 
Rogers, from the recollections of Thackeray, and Macau- 
lay, and Hood, and Hook, and Barry Cornwall, and 
Lamb, and all that glorious circle, the very thought of 
which is bewildering to the commonplace mortal ! 

Is it possible to recall the names and the personalities 
of those who were present on that evening when the 
dazzled literary neophyte first set foot on that enchanted 
drawing-room carpet? No — possibly not: memory 
plays strange tricks, when there are many years in 
which to play them ; and the best that can be done is 
to recall those who were to be found there, if not that 
special evening, at least on some of the other evenings 
rapidly following. 

Shall we "reckon without the host," or even with- 
out the hostess ? Assuredly, not so ! Let John Keese, 
without whom those gatherings would never have been. 



JOHN KEESE. 4 1 

have the first place of honor. A man of medium stature, 
thin and wiry in figure, with keen face, the nose mark- 
edly Roman and prominent, very heavy dark brows, 
ahnost meeting in the middle, and with a dark tuft at 
the root of the nose ; eyes large, dark, and notably keen ; 
mouth with a tendency to set itself a trifle tightly when 
in thought; full dark beard (the mustache not then 
worn, and to come later), full dark hair, with a dash of 
gray even then evident ; thin, nervous, and expressive 
hands ; and over all, and crowning the whole, a sugges- 
tion of quick, rapid, almost restless activity, as impos- 
sible to describe as to duplicate. Such was John Keese, 
of 1839-40, as the memory comes back to-day: would 
the bright, active, restless, incorporeal self of the dear 
old friend recognize it, it may be wondered, if to-da}-, in 
another sphere, as thoroughly alive and all-observing 
as when so long ago it informed its energetic human 
tenement? This the host: how describe the hostess, 
who yet lives (thank God ! ), and upon whom the 
hand of Time has been laid more lightly than upon 
any other daughter of Eve in recollection? The very 
antipodes of her dark-haired, thin, and wiry hus- 
band. Blonde, blue-e3'ed, middle-statured, handsomely 
formed and featured, and youthful-looking enough 
for girlhood, though already the mother of three 
boys, one of whom, bright and sparkling Larry (Jona- 
than Lawrence), was to die, in service, in the ranks 
of the Seventh Regiment, in the opening days of 
the rebellion ; the second, William Linn ; and the 
third, little Willets, to perish by drowning, almost 



42 



MEMOIR OF 



within sight of his home, before passing quite out of 
childhood. 

Who next is entitled to place, of that circle certainly 
met on the first evening and very often after ? Assured- 
ly he of whom a leading English publication said, at 
very nearly the same period, that " his plume waved 
above the heads of all the literary men of America, a 
cubit clear " — Charles Fenno Hoffman. A man of tall 
figure, with broad shoulders and a general physique in- 
dicating that he had been originally intended for a man 
of robust habit, until accident and occupation had com- 
bined to thin him and, possibly, " fine " him a little. 
Bearing in appearance, gesture, and speech, evidence of 
the very good old blood to which he belonged ; and a 
thorough gentleman at every point. A fine head, with 
dark-brown hair, quite decidedly inclined to wavy curl ; 
whiskers of the same color and character quite surround- 
ing the face, though with the lips and chin clean-shaven ; 
a good and rather firm mouth ; nose slightly low, though 
of fair length, and the reverse of aquiline ; and pleasant 
eyes, well-browed, but always hidden behind the glasses 
made necessary by short-sight — such were, at that day, 
the features of the man who had written " Sparkling and 
Bright " (the finest Anacreontic ever penned on this side 
of the Atlantic), edited the " Knickerbocker " (at its 
commencement), afterward the "American Monthly" 
and the " New York Mirror," and published such nota- 
ble volumes as " A Winter in the West," " Wild Scenes 
in the Forest and the Prairies," the novel of " Greyslaer " 
(followed afterward by '* The Red Spur of Ramapo "), 



JOHN KEESE. 43 

and much besides, holding high place in the world of 
American literature. Mr. Hoffman — though not all who 
met him were aware of the fact — had lost a leg in an 
accident, many years before, yet still remained the devo- 
tee of the field and the forest ; and of the charm of 
his scholarly and dignified conversation only those can 
judge who heard him on such occasions as that under 
notice, at that crowning era of his life. Ten years later, 
when Zachary Taylor was President, and he held a 
government position at Washington, he was attacked by 
mental disease, lost his mind entirely (there were those 
who said that a woman's falsehood was the cause of the 
malady), and, through the thirty 3-ears that have elapsed 
since then, has lived the inmate of a Pennsylvania insti- 
tution for the insane, forgetful of all that had been, his 
past fame, and perhaps even his identity. 

Next, in that circle, one of the handsomest men of his 
day, and one of the most accomplished gentlemen and 
most irreproachable writers of any day — Henry Theo- 
dore Tuckerman. A figure of something more than 
medium height, with face slightly Roman in cast and 
Southern-European in suggestion ; strong brows ; pleas- 
ant dark eyes; close-cut, dark curling hair, and full 
beard and mustache, also dark and curling. Sweetly 
grave in manner, with flashes of absolute mischief in 
conversation. He had already, at that time, made the 
tour of Europe, producing his "Italian Sketch-Book" 
and " Isabel, or Sicily " ; though the " Month in Eng- 
land," " Thoughts on the Poets," " Artist Life," " Char- 
acteristics of Literature," " Mental Portraits," etc., and 



44 MEMOIR OF 

that unrivaled series of essays, " The Optimist," were yet 
to follow at different periods of a life then yet very 
young. Perhaps no man of his age had more the fac- 
ulty of winning blended respect and love ; and few ob- 
servers of character were so keen, as many of his after- 
publications well testified. 

Perhaps the next place should be given to a lady — or 
at least to a lady and her husband. At that time Mr. 
and Mrs. Seba Smith were at something approaching 
the heiofht of their fame, which had been a trifle mete- 
oric, and was destined to be rather short-lived. Outside 
of the circle of personal acquaintance, not one in ten 
knew the real name of the short and undistinguished- 
looking man, with a certain Yankee shrewdness which 
made his conversation interesting while never deep or 
profound — " Major Jack Downing." The generation 
has now nearly all passed away who personally knew 
of and read at the time of their publication Mr. Seba 
Smith's one successful essay in life, " Major Jack Down- 
ing's Letters " from Washington and elsewhere, dealing 
with the capital, the President and his Cabinet and Con- 
gress, in the Yankee dialect, spiced with the gossip so 
easily picked up through the close observation of a 
Portland editor, and really forming, for some years, one 
of the current literary features of the period, until their 
collection into a volume in 1833, after which (as is the 
fate of many things written for an occasion) they very 
soon ceased to be remembered, and they and their 
writer were quickly overlooked if not forgotten. It 
was about that time that Mr. Smith was preparing for 



JOHN KEESE. 45 

publication his most important work, " Powhatan, a 
Metrical Romance," which did not, however, take the 
country by storm, the best talent of the writer evidently 
lying in the epistolary walk before pursued. Before his 
death Mr. Smith also wrote many tales and sketches for 
the magazines, collected in 1855 or 1856, in " Down 
East " — and contributed to scientific education a work 
on the " New Elements of Geometry." 

Of the rather handsome and undeniably attractive 
lady who was at that time the wife of " Major Jack 
Downing," much more might be said, as the lady filled 
a much broader place in literary history. Mrs. Smith 
had, personally, very handsome eyes ; a high and full 
forehead, with waved light-brown hair swept down and 
sometimes hanging in ringlets on either side of the face ; 
a small and almost childish mouth, with a chin to corre- 
spond ; and a soft and pleasant voice which some of 
those who believed her addicted to coquetry regarded 
as a trifle affected. Willis considered that the Hon. 
Mrs. Norton had made, and worthily made, very much 
of her reputation by the exquisite title of one of her 
most popular poems, " The Undying One " ; and he 
proved his belief by actually naming the lady after her 
heroine, in " Lady Jane " : 

" All this time the ' Undying One ' was singing ; 
She ceased, and Jules felt every sound a pain, 
While that sweet cadence in his ear was ringing." 

And it is not too much to aver that Mrs. Seba Smith 
won something like the same appreciation from the title 



46 MEMOIR OF 

of Jier best-known poem, " The Sinless Child." It first 
saw the light in the " Southern Literary Messenger," 
then (between forty and fifty years since) one of the 
leading literary publications of America, if not indeed 
the very first. Nearly at the time to which this paper 
refers, it gave title to " The Sinless Child, and other 
Poems," published in New York, where another volume 
of verse from the same pen had already preceded it. It 
had many fine lines, and was almost worthy the reputa- 
tion acquired by it, as have been, before and after, a 
large part of the poetical labors of Mrs. Smith. It must 
have been at about this time that she gave to the world 
" The Roman Tribute," a five-act tragedy, and somewhat 
later another, local to New York colonial history, "Ja- 
cob Leisler." She also published, very little later, " The 
Western Captive," a novel ; and a minor prose work, 
" The Salamander," attracted some attention, especially 
among the 3^ounger generation. The lady who at that 
time wore her brown curls of motherhood so coquet- 
tishly is still living, at what must be an advanced age ; 
but she has long since ceased to be known, or spoken of 
by those meeting or remembering her, as " Mrs. Seba 
Smith." Long since, she became " Mrs. Elizabeth 
Oakes-Smith " — probably from some right to the name 
by blood, though not by birth, her maiden name having 
been Prince. Her sons, Appleton and Edward (both 
somewhat well known a quarter of a century since), 
went beyond the mother in her dilution of the name of 
Smith : they changed it altogether by linking the two 
halves together, and becoming " Oaksmith," not much 



JOHN KEESE. 47 

to the content or honor, one would think, of the de- 
parted spirit of plain "Seba Smith " of the "Jack Down- 
ing Letters." But whatever the name, Captain Apple- 
ton Oaksmith, at least, made it notable in the detail of 
bravery : for the writer well remembers hearing an Eng- 
lish commodore speak of him as " the devil and all, for 
pluck ! " after his long and terrible fight of three days, 
with his ship and crew, against overwhelming odds, on 
the west coast of Africa. 

There was another couple present on that first even- 
ing and not seldom after — Mr. and ISIrs. Balmanno, 
whose names suggested their Scottish nationality, and 
who well sustained the national reputation by a broad 
heartiness, winning them many friends and not a few ad- 
mirers. Both wrote — the wife (if memory does not fail) 
a little poetry and more of bcllcs-lcttrcs prose ; and the 
husband, on many subjects connected with the history 
of his birth-land and the antiquities of Long Island. 
They were unexceptionable social companions, Mr. Bal- 
manno especially ; and years have not dimmed the recol- 
lection of his wealth of anecdote, embodying ancestral 
recollections of the days of Charles Edward Stuart, and 
reminiscences of all the great and notable of the previous 
century in the Land of the Thistle. 

But here a fair, sweet presence rises — that of Frances 
Sargent Osgood, not a very frequent visitor, it is true, 
but occasionally to be found in that charmed circle, and 
when so found always delighting it. America has 
known no truer poetess than this lady, in all her 
years of nurture. No human face was ever more per- 



48 MEMOIR OF 

fectly chiseled than hers — due regard having been had, 
meanwhile, to the fact that a woman, and not a statue, 
was being formed. That calm, pleasant face, those soft 
and kindly brown eyes, and that wealth of waved dark 
hair drawn low over her fair, white forehead, in the 
fashion of the time (since called the " Agnes Robert- 
son "), won many a heart, the homage of which was kept 
by the always kindly and tender words flowing from the 
faultless lips seldom opened but to emit a sparkle. Mrs. 
Osgood returned to i\m erica, from London (where she 
had published a collection of poems with the modest 
title of " A Wreath of Wild Flowers from New Eng- 
land," and written a play called " The Happy Release," 
at the suggestion of James Sheridan Knowles), very soon 
after that first evening, and was thereafter, when she 
became a resident of New York, no infrequent sharer of 
those pleasant hospitalities. It was some years later 
that the fiend of disease laid his hand upon her, closing 
her honorable and popular career in 1850, and leaving in 
the minds of those who had known and loved her the 
belief that she had by no means done the best that was 
in her, even in such poems as " The Spirit of Poetry," 
" Labor is Rest," and the " Dear Little Truant." 

And yet again, place anx dames ! Oddly enough, 
while the mind of the writer can so well recall the pleas- 
ant word and the always welcome presence of Mrs. 
Emma C. Embury, no recollection remains of her looks. 
Let what she was and what she did atone for the lack of 
any personal description, in a paper not intended to be 
dependent on the recollections of others. Sometimes 



JOHN KEESE. ^g 

alone, and sometimes accompanied by her wealthy and 
socially distinguished husband, Mr. Daniel Embury, 
Mrs. Embury was often a member of that circle, bear- 
ing very modestly the honors of her varied publica- 
tions, of which " Guido and other Poems " was the chief 
poetical exponent volume, while " The Blind Girl," 
" Pictures of Early Life," " Causes and Consequences," 
and other prose works in large number, in newspaper 
and other publications, gave token, and very little more, 
of what might have been had the authoress chosen to 
throw herself fully into a professional literary career. 

What a strong, earnest face and what a Byronic 
head were those of William Gilmore Simms, who, once 
in a while, in some of his Northern visits, glanced in and 
out among the circle of visitors! That shaven face and 
the curly head above it were " all alive," as the phrase is 
— alive with the energy of the man who has been truly 
and properly called " the Walter Scott of the South " — 
equally excellent in prose and poetry ; author of " Ata- 
lantis," one of the best imaginative poems that the coun- 
try has even yet produced, and of so many historical 
and romantic prose works that nearly the same fatigue 
is involved in their mere naminij, to be found in tracinsf 
the endless maze of Scott. There was something of 
John Wilson, of " Blackwood," too, in the man who was 
so thoroughly alive and earnest. At the time of which 
this paper treats, Mr. Simms was at about the glory of 
his early manhood — half-way between infancy and three- 
score and ten ; and he had made the mark, some years 
before, of " Atalantis," and his first novel, " Martin Fa- 
4 



50 



MEMOIR OF 



ber," and, very little before that time, of " Southern Pas- 
sages and Pictures" — a most enjoyable medley. He 
was an indefatigable student, and equally indefatigable 
in the impartation of any item of knowledge in his pos- 
session, and the discussion of all the subjects relating to 
it; and those who remember him at that period can 
well understand the feeling with which Paul Hamilton 
Hayne wrote of him, when, two or three years ago, they 
inaugurated his monument at Charleston's Battery Park, 
and the sensations with which a whole people gathered 
around his grave, knowing and feeling that the South 
had lost one of the most distinguished of her men of let- 
ters, if not indeed the master of them all. 

The next figure coming before the mind's eye, from 
the grouping of one of these notable evenings, belongs 
to a man who during many years created and en- 
dured as much excitement connected with the world 
of American literature as any other who could be 
named — Rufus Wilmot Griswold, ex-minister of the 
gospel, editor and literary worker in general, to whom 
the country really owed much, for a considerable 
period, and who was treated by that country more 
than a trifle irregularly before his death, as he has 
been, since that event, with a blending of neglect and 
captiousness. Mr. Griswold, at the time under notice 
(say at the earlier part of it), was about twenty-five 
years old, and had produced as yet very little work in 
the world of letters, though he had laid no mean founda- 
tion for doing so by quite extensive travels in Europe, 
by studying divinity, and becoming for a little time a 



JOHN KEESE. 5 1 

preacher in the Baptist denomination. He was a man 
of rather small figure, a very intelligent face, with the 
eyes deep-set, good forehead showing an early inclina- 
tion to the loss of front hair, sharp and trenchant nose, 
short, full beard and mustache (adopting the European 
fashion in advance of most other Americans), and a 
habit of holding down the head a trifle and looking 
keenly out from beneath the overhanging brows, not a 
little impressive when he was very much in earnest. 
Never profound, Mr. Griswold had a large fund of cur- 
rent intelligence, and was an exceptionally interesting 
talker, as possibly he had been a speaker of correspond- 
ing caliber. He was at that time connected with Horace 
Greeley's " New-Yorker," in an editorial capacity, as he 
either had already been, or was afterward to be (here 
memory fails again) with the " Brother Jonathan," " The 
New World," and other papers with literary tendencies. 
It was a little later that he became editor of " Graham's 
Magazine," doing more than any American had previ- 
ously done to draw around a single publication the la- 
bors of the best thinkers of the country, and ably sec- 
onded, in doing so, by the far-seeing liberality of the 
publisher, Mr. George R. Graham, really the father of 
American magazines of the first class. Some years still 
later (probably about 1849 c>^ ^850) he started " The In- 
ternational Monthly Magazine," with Stringer & Town- 
send as the publishers ; and from 1842 till the time of his 
death, in 1856 or 1857, he was laboriously engaged in a 
series of compilations requiring that industry and that 
persistence of which he had so much, and demanding 



52 MEMOIR OF 

little of that absolute talent and that ripe scholarship, 
in both of which he was deficient. The number of his 
volumes became eventually much greater even than 
those of Gilmore Simms, though largely (as already said) 
compilations ; and even to catalogue them would be no 
small task. Enough to say that principal among them 
in interest were " The Poets and Poetry of America," 
" Prose Writers of America," " Female Poets of Amer- 
ica," " Washington and the Generals of the Revolution," 
" Napoleon and the Marshals of the Empire," " Curiosi- 
ties of American Literature " (said to have been intend- 
ed as a supplement to Isaac Disraeli's " Curiosities of 
[English] Literature "), " Republican Court " (suggesting 
or suggested by Huntington's picture of Washington's 
and Lady Washington's aristocratic and notable sur- 
roundings during the first presidency), etc. That Ru- 
fus Wilmot Griswold, the latter part of whose personal 
life was clouded by a most unfortunate marriage, and 
whose reputation has been worse pulled to pieces than 
that of any other man of the century, did great and 
meritorious services to our growing literature, and 
assisted in fostering many writers, who, without his en- 
couragement, would hopelessly have laid down the pen, 
there is no question whatever ; and it is something of a 
privilege, now that he has already been dead for nearly 
a quarter of a century, to call back, however dimly, his 
presence, and bear even this slight testimony to his 
labors. 

And here a very different person, then at about the 
same age as Mr. Griswold, and one semi-deserting the 



JOHN KEESE. 53 

bar for literature, as the other had quite deserted the 
pulpit for the same attraction. William H. C, Hosmer, 
a rather fine-looking and splendidly-voiced young man, 
with whom (though he is yet living and in the roll of 
native bards) the writer has never met since those 
early days. Mr, Hosmer was a native of Avon, in the 
Genesee Valley, son of Hon. George Hosmer, a well- 
known lawyer of Western New York, and of a mother 
who spoke some of the languages of the Indian tribes 
and made a study of their traditions. Naturally the 
young poet, who graduated at Geneva College, drift- 
ed into knowledge of and sympathy with the aborigi- 
nes ; and naturally his first poem (from the then yet 
unpublished pages of which, to see the light in 1864, 
he recited some of the scenes magnificently in those 
well-remembered evenings) was " Yonnondio ; a Legend 
of the Canadice." Mr. Hosmer's poetical works were 
published in 1854, largely spiced with Indian legends, 
in the handling of which he has probably never 3^et 
been excelled, but with an infinite variety in the com- 
positions grouped around them, in scenes from Euro- 
pean history, the Mexican War, etc. 

A very tall young man joined in some of those 
memorable gatherings — a very tall young man, with a 
strong and not markedly handsome face, known as 
Richard Grant White. He talked well, and had a 
marked tendency to allude to the writings of one 
Shakespeare, of whom he appeared to be a " Scholar." 
He had also some very pronounced ideas connected 
with philology, giving promise that some day he might 



54 



MEMOIR OF 



be heard from with reference to speUings, derivations, 
the morals of literature, etc. Very possibly he has 
really been so heard from : there has been for some 
years a man of the same name, connected with the 
New York Custom-House, if the memory of the writer 
is not at fault, who has written on such subjects, with 
an occasional run to English Stratford - on - Avon, and 
not a little pronounced familiarity with the works and 
belongings of the great dramatist. Can it possibly be 
that this is the very tall young man of forty years 
ago? and, if so, does he remember ever being at John 
Keese's, in the midst of such company as that of which 
some of the members have been already character- 
ized? 

Once in a while, a tall, slim-waisted, broad-shoul- 
dered young fellow of a little more than thirty, with 
curling, light-brown hair, trained a little in the direction 
of ringlets, an affectation of foreign beard, and some- 
what more of other affectation than boded well for his 
eventual reputation, dropped in on the circle. He had 
also an addiction to colored coats and D'Orsay neck- 
ties, and was named Nat Willis — Nathaniel P. WilHs, 
as he should have written the name ; N. Parker Willis 
as he did write it generally. He had already, at 
this time, made the most extensive of his Old World 
travels, married Mary Leighton Stace, familiarized 
himself with English high life as few other Americans 
had ever done, and written his " Pencillings by the 
Way," awaking the admiring envy and the hostility of 
half the literary world. He had published a good 



JOHN KEESE. 55 

deal of excellent poetry — some of it, especially " The 
Sacred Poems," never excelled before or since ; and 
many of those who vilified him, and not a few of those 
who laughed at his affectations, recognized, then, and 
never afterward lost the recognition, that he was a 
man of true genius, with a " crank " or two promising 
decadence at the day when true excellence should 
properly be reached. Englishmen, then, and even ear- 
lier, knew him far better than they knew any other 
American ; and it is betraying no secret to say that 
they disliked him not a little because he observed too 
closely. A rather affected but very charming talker, 
whose affectations were smoothed if not hidden by his 
evident talent and coveted wide experience — undeni- 
ably handsome, and knowing the fact far too well — 
really warm-hearted, though many mistook the cold 
polish for the heart it covered — a wise fool, who had 
and has many brothers on the earth, not all of them 
with the same redeeming qualities — such was Nat 
Willis, whom Father Prout was already lampooning as 
" Nick Willis," when the writer met him first in these 
reunions. 

But this list must close, or be finished with only a 
few words, though the pleasant specters of those even- 
ings rise very thickly. Thomas Buchanan Read, thin 
and earnest-faced, with somewhat long hair — poet and 
painter — then nearly at the same age as the writer, 
and with little of his life-work done. He had just re- 
moved to New York, had an opera in his mind, and 
talked very enthusiastically of it. " Boston," and the 



56 MEMOIR OF 

" Lays and Ballads," were to come later, and then many 
years of celebrity as an artist at Philadelphia and in 
Italy, and the noble poetry of " The New Pastoral." 

Then — silence ! Colonel Thomas B. Thorpe — " Tom 

Owen, the Bee-hunter " — with his broad nose and face 
remindatory of Thackeray. Afterward to win laurels 
in the Mexican War, and in the volumes which grew 
out of it ; to become a Brooklyn man, and die very re- 
cently, respected by all, at or past sixty. " Charcoal 

Sketch " Joseph C. Neal, with his thin face and pleas- 
ant manner, and his conversation always suggesting the 
" Chalks on a Slab-Fence, by a Shingle-Splitter." To 
marry sweet Alice Bradley, a few years later ; to leave 
her to do his unfinished work, and then to become 
Alice B. Haven. The ardent, speaking face and con- 
cise, convincing language of Dr. Elisha Kent Kane, 
later to become one of the most distinguished of Arc- 
tic explorers and martyrs to science. The almost 

baby face and long curls of Estelle Anna Lewis, newly 
a bride, and not yet accredited with her first volume 
of poems, which, and those following, marked her, as 

a sort of American Sappho the Lesbian. And two 

more, Henry Liman, the painter, and his daughter. 

Henry Inman was not only a noble artist, blending 
conscientious care with strong talent, and winning en- 
viable reputation on both sides of the Atlantic, but he 
was a splendid-looking, dark-haired man, with the art 
of conversation very nearly reduced to a science. No 
amount of words could do justice to Mary Inman, once 
painted by Huntington as the most beautiful woman 



JOHN KEESE. 57 

of her day, and well deserving the appellation. In face, 
word,' and manner she was a born enchantress, with 
no little knowledge of the fact, and a tendency to flir- 
tation (of the so-called harmless variet)-) which made 
many a young heart sore, and probably led away many 
a man, for a time, from his legitimate allegiance. What 
a star of beauty, grace, and vivacity she was, in those 
reunions ! And how every man of the circle — espe- 
cially if young and impressible — felt that here at last 
was the cynosure of a legitimate idolatry, and that he 
could " fill the bill " of that wayward, womanly de- 
mand ! She was an exquisite vocalist, and a pianist 
of no ordinary power ; and those who may chance to 
remember having heard her play and sing Hoffman's 
charming " Rosalie Clare " are not likely ever to for- 
get the sensation. Witty beyond most of her sex, or 
indeed most of either sex, she was the chosen antago- 
nist of John Keese in many of the wit-encounters of 
those notable reunions, and well bore her banner even 
in those perilous circumstances. 

Such were the celebrities who from time to time 
gathered within the walls of the Atlantic Street house ; 
and many a place, it may be said, has become historic 
through associations less distinguished. The house still 
stands ; but no one nowadays, in passing it, dreams that 
its roof once sheltered so bright a circle of American 
literati. No neighboring memory recalls old scenes of 
joyous revelry — the toast, the song, the flash of wit, 
the flow of humor, the gay laughter ; no reminiscence 



58 



MEMOIR OF 



lives of the vSuggestive talk, the keen criticism, the tilt 
of intellect, the literary review, the winged idea, the 
birth of poem and story. Alas, the light of other da3^s 
is faded — the light of the present day is a lantern 
over the doorway ; and, where once resounded Hoff- 
man's 

" Sparkling and bright in liquid light 
Does the wine our goblets gleam in," 

King Gambrinus waves a foaming " schooner " and in- 
vites the thirsty Teuton. 

Often, in after-years, my father would dwell on that 
happy past, and interest us with recollections of many 
a famous evening, and of those who were actors in 
the scenes described. How few are living of all that 
bright array ! Mrs. Oakesmith, Hosmer, Richard 
Grant White, Charles Fenno Hoffman, I believe, are 
all, and poor Hoffman's mental darkness is worse than 
death itself.* How well I remember him ! He and 
Tuckerman, as before mentioned, were frequent and 
familiar visitors, and my brother and myself were often 
tutored by them in the recitation of their poems. Mr. 
Hoffman's "Sparkling and Bright" was my earliest 
committal to memory, and I can vividly recall my 
rather spasmodic interpretation of Mr. Tuckerman's 
" Apollo Belvedere." Then it was Mr. Hoffman's de- 
light to equip us with shovel and tongs — which last 
article my father declared would do on a pinch — and 

* Mr. Hoffman is in the asylum at Harrisburg, and remains the same as 
he has been for years. My last news of him is dated October 26, 1881, 
and then there was no change. 



JOHN KEESE. 59 

put us through a military drill, ending with a stern, 
peremptory "Dismiss!" — the obeying of which order 
was the one sole success of our performance. Mr, 
Hoffman was soldier, hunter, wit, poet, all in one, and, 
as I remember him, one of the most charming of men. 
He had a fund of stories of adventure, and drew to- 
ward him the young with a magic equal to that of 
the Piper of Hamelin. Mr. Tuckerman Avas more re- 
served in manner, but his warm heart was full of af- 
fectionate interest. 

While in the enjoyment of the intercourse born of 
these memorable gatherings, the change occurred in 
Mr. Keese's business relations which, though it still 
claimed his allegiance to books, opened to him a new 
field and inaugurated a new career. For it was about 
this period that he severed his connection with the Col- 
linses, and entered the co-partnership of Cooley, Keese 
»& Hill, the business being the selling of books at auc- 
tion, an enterprise destined to widely influence the cir- 
culation of literature, and in commercial magnitude to 
surpass all expectation. 

The firm was at first located at what was then No, 
157 Broadway; but the rapid growth of its affairs 
soon necessitated a removal to more spacious quar- 
ters ; and the rooms at No. 191 Broadway, corner of 
Dey Street, were taken, the second floor serving as the 
sales-room and counting-house. It was there that the 
auctioneer, during an entertainment given to the trade 
in celebration of the new establishment, made the fol- 



6o MEMOIR OF 

lowing announcement : " Gentlemen, we are casting 
our bread upon the waters, and expect to find it after 
many days — buttered ! " There for years were held 
the semi-annual trade-sales, until the firm * moved to 
its final home in the splendid building at No. 377 
Broadway, corner of White Street, where it continued 
to its dissolution in 1853 or 1854. 

"Mr. Keese's accession to the firm" — wrote one 
who knew him at the time — " was undoubtedly in- 
vited by the other partners, from a knowledge of his 
immense acquaintance with both books and men, and 
probably from the additional fancy that his wit and 
readiness would be found of great advantage at the 
auctioneer's desk, which post he at once assumed, and 
where, within less than a year, he threw into the 
shade, from the exercise of his predominant qualities, 
any American auctioneer who had preceded him, as 
well as established a reputation somewhat closely ap- 
proaching in prominence, and far excelling in the de- 
tails of wit and enjoyability, that of George Robins in 
London." 

The criticism is just. The celebrated George Rob- 
ins was not, from all I can gather, remarkable as an 
auctioneer thoroughly well read in what came under 
his hammer, and endowed with a wit that ampHfied 
suggestion and illumined dull inanities ; nor ready, on 
the instant, with felicitous word-play and repartee. 
His celebrity arose from his inimitable presentment, 

* Cooley & Keese, Mr. Hill having retired previously. 



JOHN KEESE. gi 

as a whole, of the thing to be vended ; his auction 
prospectus couched in terms so captivating that even 
hyperbole became charming, and what was impossible 
seemed easy and natural. Tom Hood sings of one — 

" The whole of whose birthright would not fetch, 
Though Robins himself drew up the sketch. 
The bid of 'a mess of pottage.' " 

Everybody has heard the story of how Robins, after 
exhausting the language of praise in extolling a gen- 
tleman's park which was to come under his hammer, 
stated that he was bound, as an honest man, not to con- 
ceal the drawbacks to the property, which were "the 
litter made by the rose-leaves and the perpetual din of 
the nightingales." It was in such delicious pleasantries 
that Robins excelled ; but it probably never would have 
occurred to him to reply to a purchaser, complaining 
that his book was damaged, " Damaged, you say ? Yes, 
a little wet on the outside ; but you'll find it dry enough 
within." Or, to a suspicious bidder, asking, " Is that 
binding calf ? "— " Come up, my good sir, put your hand 
on it, and see if there is any fellow-feeling." 

It is not, in the foregoing, specially designed to in- 
stitute a comparison between the auctioneers. None 
is needed, could one be drawn. Each had his sphere 
and method ; each was distinct in attributes and per- 
formance. 

Certain it is, however, that Mr. Keese brought to 
the auctioneer's pulpit higher qualities than are usually 



62 MEMOIR OF 

found in that vocation. It seems fitting at this point 
to notice the tributes paid to his abilities by those 
who knew him, and who were well qualified to 
judge. 

" I have the recollection of him " — wrote the late 
Evert A. Duyckinck — "as the wittiest book - auction- 
eer of his day in New York, and it may be said of 
any day, for there is no tradition of any predecessor 
of such powers, and he certainly left no successor in 
his pecuhar vein. This may be said without dispar- 
agement to the intellectual cleverness of the Sabins,* 
Leavitts, and Merwins of the present day — for Keese 
was really an extraordinary man, in the humorous hand- 
ling of books and an audience, enlivening a sales-room 
on the dullest of wet nights and under the most disad- 
vantageous circumstances with the brilliancy of his 
wit. Few who attended his ' sales ' did not carry away 
with them some recollection of his sparkling genius. 
It must have been a most impracticable book which 
did not in its subject, the name or associates of its au- 
thor, furnish some opportunity for his pleasantry ; and 
if these fell short he could eke out his merriment with 
some innocent play upon his audience." 

The " peculiar vein " mentioned was an illuminat- 
ing wit that played electrically upon every subject it 
touched, flashed light into nooks and corners, invest- 
ed dull commonplaces with a hue of glory, and turned 
unmeaning or ambiguous title-pages into sudden and 

* Mr. Duyckinck wrote in 1877. Mr. Joseph Sabin, the distinguished 
bibliographer, died in 1 88 1. 



JOHN KEESE. 63 

felicitous revelations. Add to this a wide knowledge 
of books and authors, an exceptional memory, a keen 
perception of every vantage-ground, and, above all, a 
celerity in retort that was surprising — and you have 
an intellectual equipment rarely found in the posses- 
sion of an auctioneer. 

Selling a black-letter volume " Concerning the Ap- 
parel of Ministers," he supposed it referred probably 
to their " surplus ornaments " ; and he assured his au- 
dience that the poems of the Rev. Mr. Logan were 
the " * Banks and Braes of Bonnie Doon ' — at all events 
the brays." 

" There was no quarter at the battle of Waterloo, 
my dear sir," he said to a bidder of twent3^-five cents 
for a narrative of that conflict. " Really, this is too 
much pork for a shilling," was his pathetic remark at 
the sacrifice of a copy of Bacon's essays for twelve 
and a half cents. " Going — going — gentlemen — ten 
cents for Caroline Fry — why, it isn't the price of a 
stew ! " (a jest prompted, perhaps, by a thought of the 
supper awaiting him at Bowling's, in Wall Street) ; 
and the same reflection probably suggested his inter- 
pretation of the title F. R. S. — "Fried, Roasted, and 
Stewed." 

" Give the gentleman his book," he said, when an 
impatient buyer of Watts's hymns disturbed the sale by 
clamoring for delivery — " he wishes to learn and sing 
one of the hymns before he goes to bed to-night " ; 
and, on knocking down another copy of the honored 
book, he ventured the parody : 



64 MEMOIR OF 

" Blest is the man who shuns the place 
Where other auctions be, 
And has his money in his fist, 
And buys his books of me ! " 

A volume by the Rev. Dr. Hawks was accompanied 
by the quiet observation, "A bird of pray, gentle- 
men." He knocked down Dagley's *' Death's Doings " 
for seventy-five cents " to a decayed apothecary," with 
the consolatory comment of " smallest fevers grateful- 
ly received " ; and introduced a volume of impossible 
verse with, " This is a book " (glancing at the biograph- 
ical sketch) " by a poor and pious girl — who wrote poor 
and pious poetry." 

The following story of how the name of the au- 
thor of " Woodman, spare that Tree " helped him to win 
over an audience and sell an impracticable book, went 
the rounds at the time. The occasion, I think, was 
when Colman's old Curiosity-Shop in Broadway was 
sold out. 

" Here," said the auctioneer, presenting an antique- 
looking volume — "here, gentlemen, is a rare and valu- 
able work — a collection of poems, odes, and all that 
kind of thing, addressed to the heroes and sages of the 
Revolution, and wedding to immortal verse the heroic 
events of that memorable epoch. These brilliant affairs 
emanated from the poet Armstrong, who in the early 
days of the republic contended with Joel Barlow and 
other choice geniuses for the laurel-wreath of poetry ! 
A great poet, gentlemen ! A wonderful man ! How 



JOHN KEESE. 65 

much shall I say for this copy of his works? Very 
scarce ! " 

A Mascenas in the room, in an outburst of enthusi- 
astic generosity, bid " twenty-five cents," and not a 
soul seemed inclined to advance upon it. " Only twenty- 
five cents ! Such an offer is an insult to genius. Recol- 
lect, this Armstrong was one of the first American 
poets, celebrated in his day, though perhaps somewhat 
neglected in ours. He was a sort of Homer of the 
Revolution — the American Homer — think of that ! How 
much for this rare copy of the American Homer ? " 

But the purchasers were deaf to the voice of the 
charmer. The "American Homer" could not extort 
another dime from the unpoetical assembly. 

" Who knows," resumed the auctioneer, " but in after- 
years this man may be regarded by our posterity as the 
Virgil or Horace of the New World ? Taste is capri- 
cious ; but let it never be said that in the nineteenth 
century American citizens suffered the only volume of 
Armstrong's powerful and exquisite poems to go beg- 
ging at twenty-five cents ! " 

But the names of Virgil and Horace awakened no 
more enthusiasm than that of Homer had done. The 
auctioneer looked round on the blank array of faces, 
and was about to knock down the book in despair, 
when another thought struck him, and he resolved on 
one more essay. 

" Bear in mind," he said, " that this Armstrong was 
the General George P. Morris of his period. Like him, 
he was a hero and the laureate of heroes. He held a 
5 



66 MEMOIR OF 

high military commission, and wrote impassioned, sen- 
timental, and warlike songs on various themes. Like 
him, he combined in his own person the excellence of 
Pindar, Horace, and Tom Moore. Shall the works of 
the George P. Morris of the Revolution go for twenty- 
five cents ? Forbid it patriotism ! forbid it taste ! forbid 
it refinement ! " 

The auctioneer " hit the right nail on the head " this 
time. This last appeal roused the enthusiasm of the 
bidders. 

" Three shillings ! " cried one. 

" Fifty cents ! " cried another. 

For fifty cents it went ; and to the fame of Gen- 
eral Morris belonged the credit of extracting a quarter 
of a dollar from pockets that were closed against the 
several appeals of Homer, Virgil, and Horace. 

In glancing over old papers, I am surprised to 
find so many tributes to my father's powers of en- 
tertainment. It would seem that in his day his qual- 
ities were deemed really phenomenal ; and one of 
his admirers declared : " If John Keese should quit 
the auctioneer business, I should die of ennui. It 
would be a public calamity. He always looks to me 
like the ghost of Sheridan grown sick of Parliament, 
and just emigrated, and set up in the book-auction 
business in New York as a sort of practical joke on 
himself." 

It was, then, a perfectly natural question for Mr. 
James Linen — in his poem of " The Auctioneer " — to 
ask : 



JOHN KEESE. ^J 

" Who lives in old (iotham in comfort and ease, 
And knows not the wit and wag, Auctioneer Keese?" 

And the late Mr. James T. Fields, then of the firm of 
Ticknor & Fields, in his rapidly penned verses after 
one of the trade-sales, pleasantly sang : 

'* But all were gay, and every one 
Before the feast agrees 
That, when he wants for food or fun, 
He'll shake a bunch of Keese." 

To quote again from Mr. Duyckinck : " An auction- 
eer is bound to hold his own against all interlocutors. 
He is liable to all sorts of questioning and interrup- 
tions ; but much of his success depends upon the main- 
tenance of his powers in his seat of authority, his ele- 
vated pulpit. It is his business to control the audi- 
ences and their purses. To do this he must keep his 
company in good humor, and least of all suffer any in- 
tellectual discomfiture. Keese never lost this superior- 
ity. It was dangerous, unless particularly well armed, 
to enter into a contest with him. Any interruption of 
the business of the room was sure to be met by him, 
when no mischief was intended, in some gentle, play- 
ful way ; but at the approach of anything like inso- 
lence the rebuke was severe." 

A memorable instance of deserved punishment is 
related by Mr. Richard Grant White, in one of his notes 
to the American edition of "The Book- Hunter." 
Speaking of the auctioneer, Mr. White says : " He was 



68 MEMOIR OF 

courageous, too, as well as ready. At a sale of unusual 
interest, attention was attracted by the presence and 
the purchases of a notorious political bully, then in office, 
and since rewarded with a better place. The creature 
was as innocent of humane letters as of humanity of 
any other kind, and bought for some political satrap of 
higher culture, in whose service he was retained. He 
claimed a curious and valuable book which had been 
knocked down to the bid of another person. This was 
explained to him in vain, and he began at once to be 
abusive. It was then offered to put up the book again. 
But he refused consent to this arrangement, and began 
to threaten, exclaiming that he ' asked justice, and meant 
to have it.' ' Sir,' instantly replied Keese, in a distinct, 
low voice, as he fixed his steel gray eye upon the bully, 
who could have torn his slight little form to pieces, 
' I know no man who deserves justice more than you 
do, and I heartily wish that you may get it.' The ani- 
mal's hide was not proof against that dart. He turned 
livid with impotent rage, and slunk silently away." 

The late Mr. Gowans was a familiar auditor at the 
sales, and bought extensively. He was very fond of 
calling the auctioneer out by putting questions con- 
cerning the book in hand, and the answers were always 
forthcoming. A work entitled " History of the Tatars " 
was offered. "Is not that Tartars?" asked Gowans. 
" No, their wives were the Tartars," was the immediate 
reply. 

Some prayer - books were selling, and Gowans, as 
was his wont, interrupted the rapid vocalization with. 



JOHN KEESE. 69 

" Are they in English ? " As quick as gunpowder came 
the answer : " Of course they are. Do )'Ou suppose a 
man is going to pray in Irish?" 

An illustration of his readiness was when a parcel 
of fancy envelopes was passed up, to be sold in one lot. 
" How many are there ? " was shouted from various 
parts of the room. " Oh, I don't know ; too many to 
number — how much for the lot?" At last they were 
knocked down. " What name ? " " Cowper ! " " It 
shall be Cowper's ' Task ' to count them," instantly ex- 
claimed the auctioneer. 

A joke much relished by the book-binding fraternity 
was his likening a ledger to Austria, because it was 
backed and cornered by Russia ; and, when it was 
knocked down to a Mr. Owen Phalen, he paused at the 
name and said reflectively, " Don't know about selling 
to a man who is always Owen and Phalen." 

He was felicitous in the application of a familiar 
quotation. Presiding over a consignment of furniture, 
which somehow had invaded the more legitimate busi- 
ness, he appealed over a coveted article to a hesitating 
housekeeper, " Going — going — ' the woman who delib- 
erates is lost ' — gone ! " 

At one of such sales a table of curious design was 
sold to a bidder who left it to be called for. Some 
time elapsed, when a friend happening in admired the 
table and wished to buy it at private sale. He was 
told that it was sold to a party who thus far had proved 
himself one of the most un-com-for-table of men. 

I remember, when a lot of Wade & Butcher's Shef- 



yo MEMOIR OF 

field razors was included in the catalogue, the auctioneer 
said that there was no limit to their sanguinary possi- 
bilities, for the buyer might " wade in blood and butcher 
all his friends." " Never mind, you'll have one volume 
less to read," he said to a bidder who found his set of 
books short ; and when another wanted to know where 
the outside of his copy of Lamb was, the auctioneer 
conjectured that " somebody had fleeced it," adding 
consolingly, " But you can recover it, )^ou know." A 
back-gammon board was put up, " to be sold on the 
square, and as perfect as any copy of Milton " — which 
comparison necessitated the explanation that there was 
"a pair o' dice lost" ; and "Three Eras of a Woman's 
Life " elicited the running comment, " Wonderful wom- 
an — only three errors ! How much ? — thirty cents — 
only ten cents apiece — not very ,t'pensive errors, after 
all." 

The feat of jotting down a report of my father's run 
of words at an evening sale was once accomplished by 
a short-hand writer; and I reproduce it here as a fair 
sample of the auctioneer's spirit when under the in- 
spiration of the hammer. 

" N'alf, n'alf, n'alf; three do I have? three, three; 
quarter, did you say ? Never let me hear an Irishman 
cry quarter. N'alf, n'alf; knocked down to Maguire 
at three dollars and a half. Now, gentlemen, give me 
a bid for ' Hallam's Middle Ages', intended for gentle- 
men in the prime of life. Two dollars, two, two; an 
eighth, eighth, eighth ; quarter, quarter, quarter — Mof- 
fat, at two dollars and a quarter. The next thing, 



JOHN KEESE. 7 1 

gentlemen, is ' The Four Last Things, by Dr. Bates.' 
Fifty cents, fifty — ' What arc they ? ' Bid away, gentle- 
men, the book'll tell you exactly what they ai-e : five 
eighths, five eighths ; five and six. Chase has it, at 
five and six. Start, if you please, gentlemen, on ' Prot- 
estant Discussions, by Dr. Cummings,' an original 
D. D. — none of your modern fiddle-dee-dees: three 
quarters, quarters ; seven eighths ; do I have seven 
eighths ? — yes, it is all complete ; a perfect book, gen- 
tlemen ; wants nothing but a reader. Dollar ; dollar, 
n'eighth, n'eighth. Black has it, at a dollar and an 
eighth. Now, gentlemen, I offer you a superb ' Prayer 
Book,' Appletons' edition, best morocco, gilt all over, 
like the sinner ; three quarters, three quarters, quarters, 
quarters — look at it, gentlemen. Here, sir, let me show 
it up to this goodly company ; you've looked at it many 
a time with more care than profit : seven eighths ; dol- 
lar ; n'eighth ; quarter, quarter — large print, gentle- 
men ; good for those whose eyes are weak and whose 
faith is strong; remember your grandmothers, gentle- 
men — three eighths, three eighths. Brown has it, at 
one and three eighths. Now, gentlemen, I come to a 
line of splendid illustrated English books. Be so kind 
as to bid for ' Finden's Beauties of Moore,' cloth extra, 
full of superb illustrations, and Fve how much bid for 
this? Start, if you please; go on. Two dollars; and 
a half, n'alf, n'alf; three, three; n'alf, n'alf; four, four, 
four. These are all English books, printed in England, 
bound in England, and sacrificed in America ; and I 
have only four dollars for this superb book — quarter, 



72 



MEMOIR OF 



quarter, quarter, and this goes to Maguire, at four 
dollars and a quarter. ' The Gems of Beauty ' is the 
next book, gentlemen. This is a glowing book, beauti- 
ful as Venus, and bound by Vulcan in his best days, 
red morocco, well read outside, gentlemen, and what 
do I hear for that ? Fifty cents — horrible ! Two dol- 
lars, by some gentleman whose feelings are outraged ; 
quarter, quarter ; half, shall I say ? Cash has it, at two 
dollars and a half. Now, gentlemen, for the ' Philo- 
sophical Works of John Locke,' best edition, opened by 
John Keese ; start, if you please — go on. Dollar ; n'alf, 
n'alf; three quarters. '■Bound in muslin?' Yes, sir; 
don't you respect the cloth? Seven eighths, seven 
eighths ; two, two, two ; quarter, quarter — brought 
three dollars the other day. 'No, it didn't /' Well, 
one just like it did. Moffat takes it, at two dollars and 
a quarter. Now for a beautiful annual, gentlemen, 
' The Ladies' Diadem,' splendid steel engravings, and 
no date, may be 1855, 6, 7, or 8. Can't tell; they pub- 
lish them so much in advance nowadays. What do I 
hear? seventy-five, seventy-five ; new book, published 
in England; dollar, dollar; eighth, do I hear? eighth; 
quarter ; three eighths, three eighths — down. What's 
the name ? whose bid is that ? Well, just as you please ; 
quarter, quarter — that's your bid, sir ; 'gainst you, out 
there ; three eighths — that's yours, sir ; what's the 
name? */'// take it ; yon seem to be very anxious to sell it.' 
No, sir, I'm not on the anxious-bench ; those are the 
anxious-seats where you are. I take a decided stand 
on that ; I face the whole congregation. Go on, if you 



JOHN KEESE. 73 

please. The next book, ' Kirke White's Remains,' Lon- 
don edition, with splendid portrait, taken from some 
old daguerreotype ; dollar, dollar, dollar, and down it 
goes. Who'll have it? Well, start it, gentlemen. 
What do I hear ? seventy-five cents ; seven eighths, 
seven eighths ; dollar, by all the house ; n'eighth, 
n'eighth. Cash has it, at a dollar and an eighth ; hor- 
rible ! I've been the high-priest of many a sacrifice. 
Now, gentlemen, who wants ' Ross's Last Expedition ' ? 
went to the poles, and, no doubt, voted twice. Start, 
if you please — go on ; dollar, did you say ? quarter, 
quarter, quarter; bidder here, half, half" — and so on 
through the catalogue. 

It is no wonder that people flocked to the evening 
sales ; and I have heard many say that to go there was 
as good as a play ; so that the late William E. Burton, 
to whom in after-years my father became warmly at- 
tached, whose theatre was then in Chambers Street, 
regarded the auction-room of Cooley & Keese as no con- 
temptible rival. And here I am reminded of an experi- 
ence related by the famous comedian, which, although 
a tale of his own crushing discomfiture, was told with 
great relish. The story is new, and is really too good 
to be lost. 

It anno)^ed Burton very much when, in the tag end of 
the play, certain of the audience began the bustle of de- 
parture, and he determined to embrace the first oppor- 
tunity to administer a public rebuke. He had not long 
to wait. One evening, toward the close of the piece, the 
characters standing in order for the epilogue, an auditor 



74 



MEMOIR OF 



arose in the gallery-front and began to button up his 
coat. The comedian left his place and stepped to the 
foot-lights. '* Excuse me, sir, but the play is not fin- 
ished, and you disturb the audience. Have the good- 
ness to sit down." The stranger, without pausing in his 
preparation, promptly replied : '' Can't help it. I've 
listened to your infernal trash long enough, and now 
I'm going." "And what did you say, Burton?" ex- 
claimed the late Henry Placide, who was one of the 
amused group. " Harry," said Burton, with an air of 

complete humiliation, " I couldn't say a • word ! " 

My father was quite right in thinking that the actor 
received on that occasion emphatically a curtain-lec- 
ture. 

A few words more with regard to Mr. Keese's value 
as an auctioneer. A man of his knowledge and ability 
was something entirely new in that capacity, and his 
qualities could not fail to make an impression upon con- 
temporary publishers. The success which attended the 
semi-annual trade-sales was largely due to his compre- 
hensive management of their important details, and his 
zealous attention to the interests of all concerned. I 
may be pardoned for quoting from an editorial article 
in a New York paper of the period, under the heading 
" Our City Trade-Sales," the following generous trib- 
ute. After remarking on the extent of a late sale (the 
largest that had taken place at the time), the article pro- 
ceeds: "We can not, however, refrain from a word or 
two on this subject with reference to the minor causes 
which help to produce such extensive business transac- 



JOHN KEESE. 75 

tions. It is well known that in a trade-sale there is 
something more than capital required to carry on the 
sale. Money, it is true, as the old saying is, begets 
money : but, never to such extent as when it is aided 
and directed by the capital of the mind. This is to be 
clearly seen in the case of the late trade-sale. A large 
amount of money capital was undoubtedly invested — 
no house, perhaps, is ready to invest a larger in the 
same range of business ; but, to the unceasing, indefati- 
gable, and persevering efforts of the auctioneer him- 
self, Mr. John Keese, is to be attributed a main cause of 
so extensive a sale having taken place. With reference 
to Mr. Keese personally we have no interest : we know 
him only from report, and that report, emanating from 
men whose dealings at the trade-sales have been con- 
stant, is strong concerning him. It may seem, indeed, 
a matter of indifference who may take upon himself to 
arrange a sale and offer books to public competition. 
But in truth it is not so. It is of great importance to 
all concerned that the man, who at such times places 
himself in the rostrum of the auctioneer, should himself 
be well acquainted with all the minutias of the business, 
and should be perfectly familiar with the books, both 
externally and internally, that pass through his hands ; 
and, not only that, but should also be possessed of that 
particular tact and ability which enable him to keep his 
audience constantly with him in fresh and cheerful com- 
pany. In Mr. Keese we have in our visits to these sales 
noticed these qualifications particularly. We have, more- 
over, been at times delightfully surprised on witnessing 



76 MEMOIR OF 

the natural and easy manner with which he carried on the 
sale without the slightest forcing for effect, and the light 
and life with which he managed to disperse its monoto- 
nous character, diffusing cheerfulness over all his hear- 
ers. There were flashes of brilliant wit and sentiment 
ever emanating from him ; and the occasional lively rep- 
artee tended to produce in the room that good humor 
and feeling so essential, while it drew upon him hearty 
marks of applause. Then, again, his sound acquaint- 
ance with every branch of literary work was evident ; • 
his knowledge of the value of a book, its worth intrinsi- 
cally, and its marketable price in the store ; his familiar- 
ity with the writings of the Eastern sages and classic 
Greeks, the Latin orators, and the learned of modern 
times ; his apt quotations and remarks concerning living 
authors — all of which tended to convince us that supe- 
riority of intellect, of education and experience, pre- 
eminently adapted Mr. Keese for the position he had 
assumed ; and it was also clear that he possessed that 
practical knowledge of business, that promptitude and 
activity of habit, which are essential to all who seek 
success ; and we have no hesitation in saying that he 
assuredly deserves it. His visits to the various cities of 
the .Union, in connection with the trade -sales, have 
caused him to be well known in many places, and every- 
where to be esteemed ; and we have thought it right to 
allude thus personally to him, because we always like 
to see the energy and perseverance of a fellow-citizen 
properly appreciated and understood. That this is so 
with reference to Mr. Keese the trade in the late sale 



JOHN KEESE. 77 

have undoubtedly admitted. Confidence in his name 
was felt by every buyer ; and the same feeling existed 
in the minds of all those gentlemen who semi-annually 
offer their books to pablic sale through him and the 
well-known house with which he is connected. Most 
cordially do we wish him a continuance of that success 
which his persevering efforts are so much entitled to." 

I can not repress an emotion of pride while penning 
the foregoing, and my thanks are recorded here to the 
unknown writer for so feeling and so appreciative a trib- 
ute. 

The out-of-town visits referred to were always a 
source of pleasure to Mr. Keese, for, while they extended 
his business connections, they also brought him into 
familiar intercourse with prominent publishers and men 
of letters, and many valued friendships grew out of the 
association. This was particularly the case in Boston 
and Philadelphia. In the former city he was introduced 
to Longfellow, Holmes, and others of the Boston literati. 
We have in our possession an elegant edition of Longfel- 
low's ballads, a gift from the poet himself, containing on 
the fly-leaf the sixth verse of '* The Psalm of Life," writ- 
ten there by the revered author's own hand. What a 
treasure the volume has now become I need not say ! 

The kind offices of the late James T. Fields were of 
great value to my father in those days, and many an intro- 
duction to men of note he owed to Mr. Fields's friendly 
interest. I have always fancied that much intellectual 
sympathy existed between the two. They were about 
the same age ; their qualities of mind were not unlike ; 



78 MEMOIR OF 

they were equally interested in letters, and full of enthu- 
siasm respecting their favorite authors and the literary 
guild generally. The aspirations of Mr. Fields were 
more than answered. It fell to his lot to enjoy the ac- 
quaintance, if not the friendship, of more literary people 
of eminence than any American of his time ; and he died 
full of years, beloved and lamented ; but not before hav- 
ing given to the reading public a record of delightful 
memories.* 

Philadelphia, though by no means the haunt of au- 
thors as compared with Boston, was a pleasant place to 
visit, and Mr. Keese's relations with the publishers there 
were always cordial. Undoubtedly his name is still re- 
membered by many of the old houses. I am reminded of 
a ludicrous incident he was witness of on one of his visits, 
which, on account of its professional flavor, amused him 
greatly. Strolling out at evening, he came to a street 
where he found a little auction-store in full blast, and 
with fraternal interest dropped in, to see what was going 
on. A fiddle was " going " in the hands of the auction- 
eer: "How much for this very fine fiddle? — how 
much? — dollar — going — and a half — shall I have three- 
quarters ? — dollar and a half — going — gone ! Now, gen- 
tlemen, we'll sell the bow ! " " Why, I thought I bought 
the bow with the fiddle," exclaimed the amazed bidder. 
" From the country, I presume, my friend," replied the 
auctioneer, with bland politeness ; and the bow, 1 believe, 
was knocked down as a separate lot. He used to tell 
this story with great glee ; and it is quite probable that 

* " Yesterdays with Authors." 



JOHN KEESE. yg 

had a fiddle and bow ever been included in an invoice to 
Cooley & Keese, he would have found it hard to resist 
the temptation to experiment upon his audience with 
the tactics of his Philadelphia brother. 

Mention has been made of Mr. Burton, the famous 
comedian. He was also a Shakespearean scholar, a man 
of letters to some extent, a lover of books, and the pos- 
sessor of one of the finest private libraries in the coun- 
try. Naturally, catalogues of all sales of interest and 
value were sent to him, and my father kept him in- 
formed with respect to the character and desirability of, 
collections to come under his hammer — besides, as the 
demands of his profession would not permit Mr. Burton 
to attend in person, managing his bids and buying for 
him at the sales. An acquaintance easily grew from this 
connection, and a friendship later. One of Mr. Bur- 
ton's reciprocal acts of kindness was to place our family 
on the free list of his theatre, and the many hours of 
delight born of that enviable privilege are still in the 
keeping of memory. Those were the days of Captain 
Cuttle, Paul Pry, Aniinadab Sleek, Timothy Toodle, Sir Toby 
Beleh, Autolycus, and the rest; the days of Placide, 
Blake, Brougham, Lester, George Barrett, T. B. John- 
son, Mrs. Hughes, Mary Taylor, and a host of others ; 
and the present writer has recorded in another form his 
recollections of nights at the Chambers Street Theatre, 

The design of forming an " American Shakespearean 
Club " was conceived at this time, and a complimentary 
dinner was given to Mr. Burton, by some friends and 
admirers, on the 23d of April, 1852, when an organi- 



8o MEMOIR OF 

zation was effected. Mr. Robert Balmanno, already 
mentioned in the literary group sketched by Mr. Mor- 
ford, acted as secretary on the occasion, and an account 
of the festivity was written by him and published in the 
" New York Evening Mirror " of April 26th. As Mr. 
Keese warmly espoused the cause, and was chairman 
of the meeting, I quote a portion of Mr. Balmanno's 
report : 

" In the course of the evening, Mr. Burton exhibited 
to the company a most gorgeous Shakespearean silver 
cup, of bounteous capacity, and of the most classic shape 
and proportions, superbly chased with some of the most 
prominent of Shakespeare's characters, executed from a 
drawing made by the celebrated Stothard. This con- 
tained another cup fashioned from the wood of the far- 
famed mulberry - tree which was planted by Shake- 
speare's own hand in his garden at Stratford-on-Avon — 
and the well-known words of the song will apply, when 
Garrick held up Ids cup at the Stratford jubilee : 

" ' Behold this fair goblet ; 

'Twas carved from the tree 
Which, O my dear Shakespeare, 
Was planted by thee ! ' " 

After an admirable dinner, the most important busi- 
ness of the evening was entered into : namely, the for- 
mation of an American Shakespearean Club ; and an ad- 
mirable letter from Washington Irving was read, with 
other letters and papers. Mr. Irving, it seems, had been 
invited to fill the office of president ; but he had de- 



JOHN KEESE. 8 1 

clined, and Mr. Burton was proposed and unanimously 
elected. 

In rising to propose a toast in honor of the da)-, Mr. 
Keese said : " Gentlemen, we are met this evening- in a 
social and informal manner, to do honor to the nativity 
of the highest literary genius the world has ever known. 
It would be sheer presumption in one to whom your 
partial kindness has dictated his present position, to de- 
scant for a moment upon the genius whose myriad-mind 
has been illustrated by the greatest men that have come 
after him ; and in the presence of the truest living ex- 
emplifier of one department of his characters, and the 
severe and appreciating students of his works. What 
could I say, that all of you have not better thought, and 
much better said, before ? It is a great day that we 
celebrate — the greatest in the intellectual calendar of 
time. Is it not one that will ever be commemorated 
with enthusiasm ? Yes ! while there are stars in heaven, 
or an Anglo-Saxon upon earth ! Gentlemen, I give you — 
The day we celebrate: it will ever be a celebrated day." 

The remarks of the chair, wrote Mr. Balmanno, 
introducing the toast complimentary to Mr. Burton, 
were in Mr. Reese's happiest vein. He claimed for him 
a combination of the versatile characteristics of four 
renowned English comedians — Emery, Fawcett, Mun- 
den, and Liston — and most felicitously remarked, that 
could his great master, Shakespeare, have witnessed 
Mr. Burton's inimitable delineation of Polonhis, Touch- 
stone, and Sir Toby Belch — his incomparable personation 
of Antolycits in the " Winter's Tale," and even that of the 
6 



82 • MEMOIR OF 

weird sisters in "Macbeth" — he would have hugged him 
to his heart with the same burst of feehng which has 
been transferred from the hps of Shakespeare to the 
tomb of one of his choicest comrades, and truly ex- 
claimed — 

" O rare Bill Burton ! " 

Here, said the chronicler, Mr. Burton rose; no longer 
the irresistible magician who sets in movement every 
mirthful emotion of the heart ; but grave, impressive, 
and dignified ; and in a brief but most eloquent speech 
expressed as well in manner as in words how deeply 
he felt the friendly homage by which he was sur- 
rounded. 

The association so auspiciously begun was destined 
to be short-lived. I have no record or recollection of 
any of its subsequent meetings ; and the promise that it 
gave of establishing in New York an institution devoted 
to noble uses, and worthy of its great name, was, un- 
happily, not fulfilled. 

Some time after the dinner above described, Mr. 
Burton gave a " Mulberry Feast " in honor of Shake- 
speare, at his residence at Glen Cove, Long Island. 
The late Lewis Gaylord Clark, in describing the occa- 
sion, in his " Editor's Table " in the " Knickerbocker," 
tells the following story, in which Mr. Keese appears: 

" At this festivity the late Mr. Balmanno, the kindly 
devotee to the great dramatist and the whole genial 
world of literature and art, unwrapped from many fold- 
ings of tissue-paper a piece of bark, taken by himself, as 
he asserted, from Heme's oak in Windsor Forest. ' You 



JOHN KEESE. 83 

took this from the trunk of the old oak itself, did you, 
Mr. Balmanno?' asked Keese. 'I did,' was the re- 
sponse. ' Ah ! ' was the reply of his questioner, eying 
the relic with affectionate admiration, but thoughtfully, 
after a slight pause — ' isn't it barely possible, Mr. Bal- 
manno, that you may have been barking up the wrong 
tree .^ ' " 

The following lines are taken from a local poem 
written for a literary society at the time when Burton's 
Theatre was deservedly the most popular place of 
amusement in the city : 

" The drama flourishes, and one thing's certain. 
Wealth, taste, and beauty throng to laugh at Burton. 
There they behold great Shakespeare's finest scholar, 
A poet and a wit, for half a dollar ; 
There Shakespeare, Sheridan, and Colman, meet. 
And you must early go to get a seat. 
Rare son of Momus, may your shadow ne'er be less, 
And we not die from laughing to excess ! " 

Nor did he forget the renowned importer of Jumbo: 

" The Bearded Lady, with her whiskers dark, 
Is seen each day at Barhum's, near the Park. 
Barnum exhibits, with his usual taste. 
His only humbug that is not barefaced ! " 

It may not be out of place to give here a single speci- 
men of a light kind of verse-writing ; the only one out 
of many that chance has preserved. The lines are ad- 
dressed 



84 MEMOIR OF 

TO A DAUGHTER OF NEW ENGLAND, 

On the receipt of a Pumpkin-Pie on Thanksgiving-Day. 

Thanks, lady, thanks ! — thy hand well skilled 

To touch with fairy fingers 
The harpsichord with music filled. 

As o'er it beauty lingers — 

Didst thou descend where plate and platter 

In goodly order stand, 
And form for me this pretty batter, 

This gift from Yankee land ? 

Oh, were I blest with wit and taste 

Well seasoned as thy pie, 
I would in numbers puff thy paste^ 

Nor make a tai-t reply. 

Thou modest pumpkin ! gentle hands 
Did pluck thee from the vine. 

And made thee pride of Eastern lands 
Whene'er their children dine. 

And though thou wert of modest birth, 

Nay, groveled in the dirt, 
Yet all New England knows thy worth, 

And owns thy rich dessert! 

And Pilgrim daughters on this isle, 
Where squashes most abound. 

Will greet thy presence with a smile, 
When Thanksgiving rolls around. 



JOHN KEESE. 85 

Then, lady, will my prayers ascend 
• For richest gifts on thee ; 

And Heaven will bless the gentle friend 
Who shares her crust with me. 

And though I fear my own desert 

Will ne'er awarded be, 
My flattered fancy must revert 

To one sweet ptiff from thee. 

And should I run the race of fame, 

I'll feel with joy elate 
That no dishonor clouds his name 

Who's won a lady's plate ! 

A passing allusion to Mr. Burton's library has been 
made in these pages ; but a more extended reference to 
it can not fail, I think, to interest my readers. Let me 
recall the evening when it was my privilege to stand 
within those walls, sacred to the glorious and immortal 
in literature, and adorned with inestimable treasures of 
art. It was an evening when Mr. Burton had gathered 
about him a band of friends, and the writer accompanied 
his father, who was one of that chosen circle. With 
what trembling awe I found m3'sclf in the presence of 
the elder Wallack, his son, Mr. Lester, Henry Placide, 
George Barrett, Dion Boucicault, and the great come- 
dian himself ! That indefinable sensation — which I sup- 
pose every youth experiences when finding himself in 
the company of actors off the stage — possessed me as I 
furtively gazed upon those faces I had never before seen 



86 MEMOIR OF 

this side of the foot-lights ; and as I looked at Mr. Wal- 
lack I thought of Erasmus Bookwoi-ni and Dick DasJiall ; 
the agreeable presence of Mr. Lester evoked the images 
of Percy A rdent and Harry Dornton ; I expected to hear 
the voice of Colonel Hardy when Mr. Placide spoke ; in 
the tall person of Mr. Barrett I saw the boastful bearing 
of Bobadil ; and in the host himself was reflected an 
entire gallery. But, really, there was nothing of the 
kind. They were so many gentlemen gathered beneath 
Mr. Burton's roof, enjoying his hospitality, and acting 
simply their natural parts. The profession was dis- 
missed. Like a man's business, it was over for the day. 
Yet, at supper, the qualities that so often shone on the 
mimic scene came into play, and lent to conversation 
vivacious flow and sparkle. " The flash of wit — the 
bright intelligence " — gleamed about the board, every- 
where finding an answering spirit, and prolific in enter- 
taining contribution. A topic launched by Mr. Barrett, 
Mr. Wallack would gayly seize and build upon ; Mr. 
Lester would then playfully and characteristically para- 
phrase it ; Mr. Placide would in turn secure it and aug- 
ment it felicitously — and so on ; until finally it was 
received by Mr. Burton, to be amplified with infinite 
relish. 

But a greater treat was in store. Supper ended, we 
were invited to the library. 

This structure was a building by itself, and was con- 
nected with the residence by a conservatory gallery, 
through which the company passed. The principal li- 
brary-room was on the upper floor, with lofty, ornament- 



JOHN KEESE. 87 

ed ceiling, in the center of which rose a dome skyhght 
of stained glass. We saw the bookcases, upward of nine 
feet high, lining the sides of the room, in whose oaken 
recesses reposed over sixteen thousand volumes ! Mas- 
terpieces of painting hung in the space between the 
cases and the ceiling, and wherever our eyes turned 
they were held by some object of artistic design, his- 
toric interest, or haunting beauty. Mailed efhgics m 
niche and compartment embalmed the stern glory of the 
middle ages ; the divine wonder in the eyes of Mary in 
" The Nativity " looked forth from the canvas of Mu- 
rillo ; and the spirit of Shakespeare held sccptered sway, 
breathing from sculptured image, bust, and cenotaph, 
and many a priceless relic. We gazed upon an eques- 
trian picture of Queen Victoria — the Queen painted by 
Count d'Orsay, the horse by Landseer — which picture 
now adorns the wall of the Conservative Club in London. 
The Murillo, I may note, became the property of the 
Peruvian Minister to England, who considered it of fab- 
ulous value. 

In a prominent niche stood a full-length statue of 
Shakespeare, executed by Thom, the Scotch sculptor; 
and on another side of the librar}^ on a bracket of the 
Elizabethan age, was placed the Stratford bust — bracket 
and bust both obtained by Mr. Burton at the sale of the 
effects of the celebrated antiquar}', Mr. Cottingham, and 
no other copy of them, it was said, existed. There was 
a curious cup, found in Shakespeare's garden ; a beauti- 
fully carved tea-caddy, made from the wood of Shake- 
speare's mulberry-tree, once the property of Garrick ; a 



88 MEMOIR OF 

small statue of Shakespeare in china, remarkable for 
being the first specimen of that ware executed at Chel- 
sea in England, and historic, like the tea-caddy, in that 
it also was formerly Garrick's ; two drinking-cups with 
silver rims, said to be " made of the wood of a crab-tree 
under which Shakespeare slept during his celebrated 
frolic, formerly in the possession of Betterton." Out- 
side the library, in a place prepared for it, stood the 
statue of Shakespeare in wood, a relic of the old Park 
Theatre. Among other relics not pertaining to Shake- 
speare, but of equal historic interest, were the gold watch 
presented by Napoleon to Talma, the tragedian, with 
an interior inscription ; Washington's own repeating 
watch ; and many other interesting mementos. 

It is not my intention, even were it possible, to at- 
tempt any description of the many rare and valuable 
books that were embraced in Mr. Burton's superb col- 
lection. Too young to have any comprehension what- 
ever of those thousands of volumes of precious literature, 
I can only record my condition of simple wonderment as 
I stood and gazed around me. That matchless library 
was sold at auction after the owner's death, and suffered, 
T believe, general dispersion. 1 know, however, that ev- 
ery department of literature, exclusive of the Shakespear- 
ean collection, was represented, and comprised works 
of acknowledged bibliographical eminence, many being 
unique in importance and value.* 



* A detailed description of Mr. Burton's library will be found in an ac- 
count of" Private Libraries in New York," by James Wynne, M. D., pub- 
lished by E. French, New York, i860. 



JOHN KEESE. 89 

I have often wondered why my father, with his 
many opportunities, never amassed a library. Perhaps 
it was owing to the fact that his business was books, and, 
being- constantly in the midst of them, there was no 
incitement to pursuit and possession. A collection of 
books at home might have seemed to him, indeed, some- 
thing like a transplantation of his business. But, at all 
events, he gave no sign of a collector's itching palm, nor 
of anything that betokened a leaning toward bibliomania. 
He would bring books home to read and to show us, and 
would then take them away ; they were not so many add- 
ing prizes to groaning shelves. Not but that all our liter- 
ary needs were more than supplied ; but he did not share 
Henry Ward Beecher's feeling that there is no pleasure 
so great as that of buying a book 3'ou can not afford to 
pay for. He could not say with Prospcro, " My library 
was dukedom large enough." 

The dissolution of the firm of Cooley & Keese in 
1854, as previously stated, compelled my father to seek 
a new position, and he obtained the appointment of Ap- 
praiser of Books in the New York Custom-House, a 
post he was well qualified to fill. So long as his health 
permitted, he still occupied the auctioneer's pulpit at 
the evening sales of the firm's successors ; but the exer- 
tion was always followed by sore aggravation of his 
bronchial trouble, and at length it became evident that 
his selling-days were over. He confined himself then to 
his duties as appraiser, and felt hopeful that with care 
his season of usefulness might be prolonged. But it was 
not to be. His voice rapidly failed, until it fell to almost 



90 



MEMOIR OF 



a whisper. Yet his bright spirit still watched the cita- 
del. In so dark an hour, Chief-Justice Daly, meeting 
him at his labor, inquired respecting his health. " Fail- 
ing, failing — in a place where everything is invoiced ex- 
cept myself." 

He grew weaker and weaker, and finally was unable 
to leave his room. In the afternoon of May 30, 1856, 
his brother brought from the Custom-House a document 
requiring his signature, and he wrote his name with a 
firm hand. A few hours afterward he was no more. A 
sudden hasmorrhage was the immediate cause of death ; 
and with the shadows of evening came the deeper shad- 
ow of bereavement. 

So passed away a man who thirty years ago enjoyed 
a reputation almost unique in the city that gave him 
birth. With respect to natural gifts and certain predom- 
inating qualities, it seems to have been generally ac- 
knowledged that no successor in the auction-room has 
suggested a comparison. His career was marked by ac- 
tivity and enterprise, and in the performance of his du- 
ties he exhibited zeal, method, and comprehension. His 
physical endurance was remarkable, and he shrank from 
no labor, however fatiguing or incessant. It was no 
unusual thing, during the trade-sales, to see him go on 
selling day after day, as fresh and sparkling as if he had 
just come on the stand. An endeavor to depict him in 
the scenes of his busy life has been made in the preced- 
ing pages, and I trust not wholly in vain. Allusion has 
been made to his conversational and entertaining pow- 



JOHN KEESE. oi 

ers, and his name may be recalled by readers of this mem- 
oir who remember him in the social circle. It remains 
to be said that he was kind and loving- in his family rela- 
tions, and that his home was everything to him. He was 
generous to a fault, and ever ready to respond to 
friendship's call. His motto might be given in the 
words of Shakespeare : 

" I count myself in nothing else so happy, 
As in a soul remembering my good friends." 



INDEX. 



Allston, Washington, 33, note. 
" American Shakespearean Club," 79. 
" Ancient Mariner, The," 15, note. 
"Attic Club, The," 12, note. 
" Auctioneer, The," quotation from, 
66. 

Balmanno, Mr. and Mrs., sketch of, 

47- 
Balmanno, Robert, 80, 81, 82, 83. 
Barker, J. N., 33, note. 
Barlow, Joel, 64, 
Barrett, George, 79, 85, 86. 
Beecher, Henry \V., 89. 
Biddle, Nicholas, 24. 
Bigelow, John, 12, note. 
Bird, R. M., 33, note. 
Blake, William E., 79. 
Boucicault, Dion, 85. 
Bradley, Alice, 56. 
Brooks, J. G., 33, note. 
Brougham, John, 79. 
Bryant, William Cullen, 20, 31, 33, 

note. 
Burr, S. J., 33, note. 
Burton, William E., 30 ; story of, 73 ; 

mention, 79, 80, 81, 82, 85, 86, 87, 

83. 
Burton's Theatre, 83. 
Butler, George B., 12, note. 

Canfield, Rev. Dr., 10. 
Chapman, J. G., 21. 
Clieever, George B., 31. 
Choate, Rufus, oration of, 13. 
" Christabel," 15, note. 
Cincinnati, Society of the, 7. 
Clark, Lewis G., 21, 24, 82. 
Clark, Willis G., 33, note. 
Clarke, Dr. Alonzo, 12, note. 



Collins & Hannay, 8. 
Collins, Keese & Co., 9, 20. 
Colman, Samuel, 33, note. 
"Column Club, The," account of, 

II, note. 
Cooley, James E., 9. 
Cooley & Keese, 9, 60, 73, 79. 
Cooley, Keese & Ilill, 9, 59. 
Cooper, J. Fenimore, 21, 24. 
Cornwall, Barry, 40. 
Cutter, W., 33, note, 

Dana, R. H., 33, note. 
Daponte, C. E., 33, note. 
Davidson, L. M., 33, note. 
Davis, Matthew L., 22, 23. 
Dawes, R., 33, note. 
Dearborn, George, 20. 
Dewey, Rev. Orville, 20. 
Dinnies, A. P., 33, note. 
Doane, G. W., 33, note. 
Drake, J. Rodman, 22, 33, note. 
Duyckinck, Evert A., preface, 36, 62, 
67. 

" Early Called, The," 35, note. 

Ellet, E. F., 33, note. 

Embury, Daniel, 49. 

Embury, Emma C, 33, note ; sketch 

of, 48. 
Emery, John, 81. 
Evarts, William M., 12, note. 
Everett, Edward, 24, 33, note. 

Father Prout (Francis Mahony), 55. 
Fawcett, John, 81. 
Fay, Theodore S., 34, note. 
Felt, David, 20. 

Fields, James T., 30 ; verse by, 67 ; 
mention, 77, 78. 



94 



INDEX. 



Fish, Hamilton, 12, note. 

" Floral Keepsake, The," 36. 

" Forest Legendary, The," 36. 

Forney, John W., 17. 

Forrest, Edwin, recitation by, 17. 

Francis, John W., 21, 23, 24. 

Gallatin, Albert, 20. 
Gilman, Caroline, 34, note. 
Godwin, Parke, 12, note. 
Gould, H. F., 34, note. 
Gourlie, John, 12, note. 
Gowans, William, 68. 
Gray, Harrison, 21, 22. 
Griswold, Rufus W., sketch of, 50- 
52. 

Hale. Sarah J., 34, note. 

Halleck, Fitz-Greene, 20, 21, 24, 34, 

note, 38. 
Harper, Fletcher, 20, 25. 
Harper, James, 21, 22 ; speech of, 

23- 
" Harper's Magazine," 30, note. 
Haven, Alice B., 56. 
Hayne, Paul H., 50. 
Hill, Horatio, g. 
Hillhouse, J. A., 34, note. 
Hoffman, Charles Fenno, 34, note, 

38 ; sketch of, 42, 43 ; mention, 57, 

58, note, 59. 
Hoffman, George H., 12, note. 
Holmes, Oliver W., 34, note, 40, 77. 
Hone, Philip, 21, 23. 
Hood, Thomas, 40, 61. 
Hook, Theodore E., 40. 
Hooper, Lucy, " Poetical Remains " 

of, 33- 
Hosmer, William H. C, sketch of, 

53, 58. 
Hughes, Mrs., 79. 
Huntington, Daniel, 52, 56. 
Hutton, Laurence, story told by, 28. 

" Idiot Boy, The," poem, 16-20. 

" Influence of Knowledge, The " (lec- 
ture), 36. 

Inman, Henry, 21 ; sketch of, 56. 

Inman, Mary, sketch of, 56. 

Irving, Washington, 20, 21, 23, 24, 
34, note, 40, 80. 

Johnston, T. B., 79. 

Kane, Elisha Kent, 56. 



Kean, Edmund, 27, 28. 
Keese, Edmund Willets, 10. 
Keese, John ( grandfather of sub- 
ject), 7. 
Keese, John, preface, birth, and par- 
entage, 7. 

his grandfathers, 7. 
education for the ministry, 8. 
beginning his business career, 

8,9- 

marriage and family, 9. 

self-cultivation, 10, 11. 

joins " The Column Club," 11. 

love of oratory. Brougham, 
Choate, etc., 13. 

Dr. Nott's addresses, 14. 

Kossuth's speeches, 15. 

poetical recitation, 15. 

improvisation and reading, 15, 
note. 

" The Prisoner of Chillon," 16. 

" The Idiot Boy " ; Forney and 
Forrest, 16-20. 

Booksellers' dinner, speech there- 
at, 20-25, ^f ^^1- 

a genuine Gothamite, 26. 

extract from local poem, 26, 27. 

passion for the drama ; imitations 
of actors, 27. 

auction-room story, 28. 

private theatricals ;" The Rivals," 
29, 30, et seq. 

editorship ; " The Poets of Amer- 
ica," etc., etc., 31-36, et seq. 

" The Influence of Knowledge" 
(lecture), 36. 

his literary capabilities ; produc- 
tions, 37. 

residence in Atlantic Street, 38. 

A literary group, 39-57. 

pen-portrait of, 41, et seq. 

fate of Atlantic-Street house, 57, 
et seq. 

becomes auctioneer, 59. 

qualities as auctioneer, 60-63. 

wit of the auction-room, 63- 

73- 
value as an auctioneer, 74. 
encomium in New York paper, 

74-77- 
out-of-town visits, 77, et seq. 
story of Philadelphia auctioneer, 

78. _ 
acquaintance with W. E. Burton, 

79- 



INDEX. 



95 



Keese, John, presides at meeting of 
^hakespeare Club, 80. 
speeches thereat, 81, 82. 
story of, at "Mulberry Feast," 

82, 83. 
extract from local poem, 83. 
poem " To a Daughter of New 

England," 84. 
Visit to Mr. Burton's library, 

85-88. 
appointed appraiser of books, 89. 
ilhiess and death, 90. 
conclusion, 90. 
" Keese, John ; his Intimates," etc., 

preface, 39. 
Keese, Jonathan Lawrence, 9, 9, note, 

41. 
Keese, Willets, 9, 41. 
Keese, William, 7. 
Keese, \Vm. Linn, ist, 8. 
Keese, \Vm. Linn, 2d, 41. 
Kemble, Miss, 28. 
Kent, James, 7, 20, 21, 23. 

Kettell, , 31- 

King, Charles, 21, 22. 
Kossuth, Louis, sj^eeches of, 15. 

Lamb, Charles, 40. 

Lawrence, Jonathan, Jr., 34, note. 

Leggett, W., 34. 

Lester, J. W., 79, 85, 86. 

Lewis, Estelle Anna, 56. 

Linen, James, 66. 

Linn, Rebecca, 7. 

Linn, Rev. William, 7. 

Liston, John, 81. 

Locke, Richard A., 21. 

Longfellow, Henry W., 15, note, 33, 

34, note, 40, 77. 
Lowell, J. Russell, 40. 
Lyell, Rev. Dr., 12, note. 

Macaulay, T. B., 40. 

" Major Jack Downing," 35, 44, 45. 

Mellen, G., 34, note. 

Mitchell, J. K., 34, note. 

Mitchell, William, 31. 

M'Lellan, L, Jr., 34, note. 

Moore, Clement C, 34, note. 

Morford, Henry, preface, 15, 38, 39, 
80. 

" Morford's Magazine," 39. 

Morris, Cleorge P., 21, 31 ; auction- 
room story, 65, 66. 

" Mourner's Chaplet, The," 35. 



" Mulberry Feast " (story), 82. 
Munden, Joseph S., 81. 

Nathan, Jonathan, 12. 

Neal, John, 34, note, 35. 

Neal, Jose])h C, 56. 

Noah, Major, 21, 22. 

" North American Scenery," 36. 

Norton, A., 34, note. 

Nott, Dr., address of, 14. 

Oakes-Smith, Elizabeth, 34, 35, 58. 
" Opal, The," 36. 
Osgood, Frances Sargent, 47. 
"Our Poets Forly-tliree Years ago," 
33. note. 

Paulding, James K., 20, 23, 34, note. 

Peabody, W. O. B., 34, note. 

Percival. James G., 34, note. 

Pickering, H., 34, note. 

Pierpont, John, 34, note. 

Pinkney, E. C, 34, note. 

Placide, Henry, 30, 74, 79, 85, 86. 

Poe, Edgar A., 21, 24, 31. 

" Poets of America, The," 22, note, 31, 

32, 33, note. 
Prentice, Cieorge D., 34, note. 
" Prisoner of Chillon, The," 15. 
Pritchard, William M., 12, note. 
" Private Libraries in New York," 88, 

note. 
Putnam, George P., 21, 25. 

Read, Thomas Buchanan, sketch of, 

55, 56. 
" Rivals, The," performance of, 29. 
Robertson, Anthony, 12. 
Robins, George, 60, 61. 
Rockwell, J. O., 34, note. 
Rogers, Samuel, letter of, 24, 40. 
" Rosalie Clare" (song), 57. 

Sabin, Joseph, 62, note. 

Sands, R. C, 34, note. 

Sargent, Epes, 34, note. 

Schell, Augustus, 12, 12, note. 

Sigourney, L. H., 34, note. 

Simms, William G., 34, note ; sketch 

of, 49, 50. 
"Skeleton in Armor, The," 15, note. 
Smith, L. P., 34, note. 
Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Seba, sketch of, 

44-47. 
Smith, Sydney, 26. 



96 



INDEX. 



Sprague, Charles, 34, note. 
Stace, Mary Leighton, 54. 
Stone, William L., 21, 22, 
Street, A. B.. 34, note. 
Strong, Oliver, 12. 
Sutermeister, J. R., 34, note. 

Taylor, Mary, 31, 79. 

Thackeray, W. M., 40. 

" Then," 30, note. 

Thorpe, Thomas B., 56. 

Timrod, W. H., 34, note. 

Trumbull, Colonel, 20. 

Tuckerman, Henry T., 34, note, 35 
note, 38 ; sketch of, 43, 44 ; men- 
tion, 58, 59. 

Van Winkle, E. S., 12, note. 
Verplanck, Gulian C, 24. 



Wallack, James, 85, 86. 

Webster, Daniel, 24. 

Webster, Noah, 24. 

Wells, A. M., 34, note. 

White, Richard Grant, sketch of, 53^ 

54 ; mention, 58 ; story told by, 67," 

68. 
Whittier, John G., 34, 34, note. 
Wilcox, C, 34, note. 
Wilde, R. H., 34, note. 
Willets, Elizabeth, 9. 
Willets, Zebulon S., 9. 
WiUis, N. P., 24, 34, note ; sketch of, 

54, 55. 
" Wintergreen, The," 36. 
Woodworth, Samuel, 34, note. 

" Yesterdays with Authors," 78, note. 



THE END, 




"^mifW^: 



■■'■■■ ^-'v-J^-'O^'-'*^^?^^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 117 785 4 



